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THIS volume, as its title implies, has been chiefly derived from the recollections of my 
mother ; but recitals by my father, grandparents and other deceased relatives and friends 
have aided the work, and I have obtained many anecdotes and facts from several aged per- 
sons still living. My thanks are due to others less advanced in life, especially to J. H. HAM- 
LIN, esq., of Portland, Maine, for details respecting the Poyen family, and for the description 
of their ancestral home in Gaudaloupe; to Miss REBECCA INGERSOLL DAVIS of East Haver- 
hill, for others relating to the Countess De Vipart ; to Mr. LYMAN COLE of Newburyport, for 
his family history; to GEORGE EDWIN EMERY of Lynn, Mass., for facts respecting our ances- 
tors, and their home in England, and for the history of the name of Emery; also to THOMAS 
C. AMOKY, esq., of Boston, for Amory records; to JAMES CHUTE PEABODY, esq., for valua- 
ble information. I am indebted to the " Genealogy of the LITTLE Family," compiled 
esq., for the " Heraldry of SMITH, London, JOHN RUSSELL SMITH, 36 Soho square, 1870;" to 
BENJAMIN HALE, esq., and other persons and families who have kindly loaned genealogies 
and ancient documents. I have received assistance from the Histories of Newbury and New- 
buryport by JOSHUA COFFIN, esq., and Mrs. E. VALE SMITH; and JOHNSTON'S History of the 
Campaign on Long Island in 1776 ; from the Record of Schools, by Mr. O. B. MERRILL, 
published by the "Antiquarian and Historical Society" of Old Newbury; GAGE'S History of 
Rowley and Genealogical Register, 1869. In the family records I have aimed at an arrange- 
ment that will enable the descendants of the present generation to trace their lineage, and I 
have endeavored to note those born within the limits of Newbury and Newburyport, who 
have been college graduates, or have otherwise become distinguished. 

My desire has been to give a graphic history of " Ye Olden Time" ; to faithfully portray 
the domestic, religious, political, literary and social life of a past age, with a description of 
" Ould Newberry," and of the business and aspect of Newburyport prior to the great fire of 
1811. The ancient town has been rich in matters of world-wide interest and historic value. 

About 1650, at the Dummer, now Glen Mills, was set up the first cloth mill in America. 
In the Byfield parish was the first woolen and cotton factory in Massachusetts, and there the 
first broadcloth manufactured in the country was made. There, Perkins the inventor of the 
plate for engraving bank notes, set up the first nail factory. In the same parish, in 1680, at 
the head of tide-water on the river Parker, the first vessel was built in New England. Later, 
the first academy was founded by Gov. Dummer, and still later, the first incorporated rifle 
company was formed. In the West Precinct, now West Newbury, the first horn combs and 
buttons were manufactured by Mr. Enoch Noyes. In Newburyport Master Pike published 
the first Arithmetic, and the stalwart ship carpenter, Eleazer Johnson, burned the first tea 
in ante-revolutionary times, previous to its destruction in Boston. His son Nicholas, com- 
manding a Newburyport ship, the " Count de Grass,e" was the first to display the Stars and 
Stripes on the river Thames. Newburyport has also the honor of having founded the first 
Sunday and female high schools in Massachusetts. That the book may satisfy the expectations 
of relatives and friends, and prove a source of instruction and interest to the public generally, 
is the sincere wish of 


Newburyport, 1879. 


Ninety years is a long period to re- 
view. The world of to-day is an en- 
tirely different thing from that of my 
earliest recollection. How vividly I 
recall the old homestead the large 
brown house, built in 1707, with its 
wide, sloping back roof, and many sized 
and shaped windows ; the long barn 
and other farm buildings in the rear ; 
the well, with its graceful sweep in 
front, and the usually huge wood pile 
at the back. Before the house stretched 
a large garden, well stocked with pear, 
peach and cherry trees. Currant and 
gooseberry bushes grew luxuriantly be- 
neath the sheltering board fence, that 
separated the enclosure from the broad 
fields and orchards around. There was 
a clump of quince bushes in one corner, 
and in another two Plum Island plum 
bushes, that had grown from stones 
taken from fruit brought from the isl- 
and. There was also a great variety 
of medicinal and sweet herbs, and from 
early spring till late in autumn the bor- 
ders on either side of the gravel walk 
were gay with flowers. These flowers 
were one of the greatest delights of 
my childhood. How distinctly I re- 

member every shrub and bush, and the 
pleasure I received in dispensing my 
treasures amongst my less favored 
neighbors, who often came to beg a 
rose, a bunch of pinks, or some spear- 
mint or lavender "to take to meetin' 
to keep 'em awake Sabba' day." 

Crossing the broad, unhewn door- 
stone and opening the wide front door, 
you saw a narrow entry with a flight of 
winding stairs at the back. As you 
stepped across the threshold your feet 
fell upon a trap door in the floor. 
Through this cavity passed all the farm 
produce that was annually stored in the 
cellar. Carts filled with potatoes, tur- 
nips, etc., were backed up to the door 
and their contents chuted into the sub- 
terranean regions below, while from the 
iron stanchion in the unplastered ceil- 
ing overhead was lowered, by rope and 
pulleys, barrel after barrel of apples 
and cider. The house was constructed 
in the style common to the period, 
two spacious rooms on either side of 
the front entry, with wide fireplaces, and 
low ceilings crossed in the centre by a 
broad beam. The two front windows 
in both rooms were long and narrow ; 


the one in the end was square. Open- 
ing from these apartments were the 
summer kitchen, bed-rooms and the 
dairy. The fireplaces, both below and 
in the chambers, showed an attempt at 
architectural ornament, in the high 
mantel pieces. Those in the two front 
rooms were both furnished with a large 
oven in a corner to the right, and a 
smaller one in that opposite. These 
were closed by brightly-painted red 
oven lids ; and in the right-hand cor- 
ner stood a long, low form, for the ac- 
commodation of the smaller members 
of the household. There were long 
dressers, also, showing some effort at 
elegance in the carving of the shelves, 
which were loaded with pewter ware, as 
bright as silver, and a comer cupboard, 
in the county phraseology termed a 
"beaufat," which displayed rare treas- 
ures of China, glass and silver. 

My father and mother, recently mar- 
ried, occupied one half of the house ; 
my widowed grandmother, with anoth- 
er son and daughter, resided in the 
other half. Young people, their for- 
tune still to be made, my parents' 
rooms were plainly furnished, with com- 
mon tables and flag-bottomed chairs. 
A high case of drawers was the chief 
ornament to the best bedroom, the oth- 
ers boasting of only a chest of drawers. 
These were about the height of a bu- 
reau, with a chest atop and one or two 
drawers beneath. The square, high- 
post bedsteads were tastily hung with 
muslin and chintz curtains, and cov- 
ered with the prettiest of coverlids, 
woven in love-knots and other dainty 
patterns, or with quilts stiff with the 
most elaborate quilting. Grandmoth- 
er's rooms were much more elegant. 
While my mother, the oldest of nine 
children, was provided with a common 

fitting out, my grandmother, the heiress 
to quite a fortune, had received an out- 
fit that, at the time of her marriage, 
had been the chief topic for tea-table 
talk throughout the country-side. The 
bridal trousseau and the best furniture 
had been imported from England ex- 
pressly for her, by indulgent and some- 
what aristocratic parents. The green 
damask dress, and brown camblet cir- 
cular cloak and riding hood, with the 
high-heeled brocade slippers, were, at 
the time of which I am speaking, still 
as fresh as new, and a peep at them 
was a rare treat wl|ich was sometimes 
vouchsafed when. I was especially good. 
Grandmother's front room had bow- 
backed chairs with flag seats, and ta- 
bles supported by curiously-carved and 
twisted legs, a candle stand that screwed 
up and down like a piano stool, a hand- 
some mirror, and the buffet was re- 
splendent in' its appointments. Her 
best bed was hung with green moreen 
curtains, edged by heavy gimp trim- 
ming ; the case of drawers was decor- 
ated with fluted drawers in the upper 
tier, and surmounted by ornaments of 
carving. There was a handsome dress- 
ing table, a fine specimen of the sculp- 
tured frames of the period, with sever- 
al drawers and compartments. Over 
this hung a glass, the plate surrounded 
by an ornamental wreath, and a frame 
of colored glass, set in mahogany 
moulding. The back chamber the 
large one under the long, sloping back 
roof was set apart for manufacturing 
purposes. Here the chief part of the 
clothing and other household goods for 
the family were spun and woven. The 
apartment was conveniently fitted up 
with looms, woolen, linen and spooling 
wheels, swifts, reels, cards and warp- 
ing bars. Here, also, stood the great 


grain chest, well stored with wheat, 
rye, oats and barley. Our farm was 
well adapted to the growth of wheat. 
My father raised enough to supply his 
family, and had a surplus for the mar- 
ket. The large garret, besides being 
the receptacle for all the odds and ends 
of housekeeping, was annually filled 
with Indian corn, a corn barn being a 
later addition to the premises. 


My parents had married young. 
Their chief capital for commencing life 
was youth, health and mutual love. 
My grandfather's decease dated a few 
years prior to his son's marriage, and 
the large farm, with the exception of 
the widow's dower, had been divided 
between the five sons. At this time 
my father had purchased one of these 
shares, and he was making strenuous 
exertions to secure the rest of the pa- 
ternal acres. Industry and economy- 
were the watchwords of the household : 
still, there was no overtasking nor 

In those summer days, when my rec- 
ollection first opens, mother and Aunt 
Sarah rose in the early dawn, and, tak- 
ing the well-scoured wooden pails from 
the bench by the back door, repaired 
to the cow yard behind the barn. "We 
owned six cows ; my grandmother four. 
Having milked the ten cows, the milk 
was strained, the fires built, and break- 
fast prepared. Many families had milk 
for this meal, but we alwaj's had coffee 
or chocolate, with meat and potatoes. 
During breakfast the milk for the cheese 

was warming over the fire, in the large 
brass kettle. The milk being from the 
ten cows, my mother made cheese four 
days, Aunt Sarah having the milk the 
remainder of the week. In this way 
good-sized cheeses were obtained. The 
curd having been broken into the bas- 
ket, the dishes were washed, and, un- 
less there was washing or other extra 
work, the house was righted. By the 
tune this was done the curd was read}' 
for the press. Next came preparations 
for dinner, which was on the table 
punctually at twelve o'clock. In the 
hot weather we usually had boiled salt- 
ed meat and vegetables, and, if it was 
baking day, a custard or pudding. If 
there was linen whitening on the grass, 
as was usual at this season, that must 
be sprinkled. After dinner the cheeses 
were turned and rubbed ; then mother 
put me on a clean frock, and dressed 
herself for the afternoon. Our gowns 
and aprons, unless upon some special 
occasion, when calico was worn, were 
usually of blue checked home-made 
gingham, starched and ironed to a nice 

In the sultry August afternoons 
mother and Aunt Sarah usually took 
their sewing to the cool back room, 
whose shaded door and windows over- 
looked the freshly-mown field, dotted 
by apple trees. Beyond the mossy 
stone wall stood the homestead of Un- 
cle Samuel Thurlow (at that time this 
name was pronounced Thurrell), our 
next neighbor. Other buildings came 
to view, interspersed with hill and 
meadow, forest and orcharding. The 
line of brown houses very few were 
at that time painted marked the po- 
sition of the main road. Across rose 
the square meeting-house, crowning the 
high, precipitous hill upon which it was 



perched. Farther on, the spires of the 
distant seaport town glittered in the 
afternoon light, which fell in brilliant 
beams upon the sands of the beaches 
and Plum Island, and whitened the 
sails of vessels far away upon the blue 
sea, whose line blended, almost imper- 
ceptibly, with the tints of the sky in 
the eastern horizon. 

My grandmother, after her afternoon 
nap, usually joined her daughters, with 
a pretence at knitting, but she was not 
an industrious old lady. There was no 
necessity for work ; and if idle hours 
are a sin, I fear the good woman had 
much to answer for. Leaning back in 
her easy-chair, she beguiled the time 
with watching the splendid prospect, 
with its ever-varying lights and shades, 
or joined in the harmless gossip of 
some neighboring woman, who had run 
in with her sewing, for an hour's chat. 

At five o'clock the men came from 
the field, and tea was served. The tea 
things washed, the vegetables were 
gathered for the morrow, the linen tak- 
en in, and other chores done. At sun- 
set the cows came from the pasture. 
Milking finished and the milk strained, 
the day's labor was ended. The last 
load pitched on the hay mow, and the 
last hay cock turned up, my father and 
the hired man joined us in the cool 
back room, where bowls of bread and 
milk were ready for those who wished 
the refreshment. At nine o'clock the 
house was still, the tired hands gladly 
resting from the day's toil. Except 
during the busiest of the hay season, 
my father went regularly once a week 
to the neighboring seaport town, taking 
thither a load* of farm produce. For 
years he supplied several families and 
stores with butter, cheese, eggs, fruit 
and vegetables. These market days 

were joyful epochs for me, as at his re- 
turn I never failed to receive some lit- 
tle gift, usually sent b} T some of our 
"Port" relatives and friends. 

Butter making commenced in Sep- 
tember ; only ' ' two meal cheese " were 
made, that is, one milking of new milk 
and one of skimmed to the cheese, the 
cream of one milking going to the but- 
ter. The weaving of woolen cloth was 
begun, in order that it should be re- 
turned from the mill where it was fulled, 
colored and pressed in tune to be made 
up before Thanksgiving. This mill 
was in By field, at the Falls, on the 
site of the present mill, and was owned 
and run by Mr. Benjamin Pearson. 
The winter's stocking yarn was also 
carded and spun, and the lengthening 
evenings began to be enlivened by the 
busy click of knitting needles. As 
Thanksgiving approached, the hurry 
both in doors and out increased. 

With awe I would tiptoe to the edge 
of the open trap door which I had 
been strictly enjoined not to approach, 
to peep at the things which had been 
carried into the cellar ; then I would 
patiently toil after perspiring Uncle 
Burrill, my favorite amongst the hired 
men, as he wearily bore basket after 
basket full of the long, golden ears of 
Indian corn into the large garret, which 
to my childish vision appeared so very 
vast and mysterious. 

While of an evening the males of the 
family were bus}' husking on the barn 
floor, b} T the light of the hunter's moon, 
the females were 'equally engaged 
around the sparkling fire, which the 
chilly evenings rendered grateful, peel- 
ing apples, pears and quinces, for 
cider apple-sauce and preserves. 

After the cloth had been brought 
from the mill, tailor Thurrell from the 


Falls village appeared, goose in hand, 
remaining several days, to fashion my 
father's and uncle's coats and breeches. 
Mother, a manteau-niaker before her 
marriage, had her hands more than full, 
as she was not only called upon to 
make the gowns for our family, but to 
fit the dresses for her own mother and 
sisters and others in the vicinity. As 
the cold increased the cheese were car- 
ried to the cellar, and the cheese room 
was scoured. The week before Thanks- 
giving the ox which had been stalled 
for the occasion, was killed. Part of 
the beef was salted, the remainder put 
in a cool place, and as soon as the 
weather was sufficiently cold it was 
frozen, in order to preserve it fresh 
through the winter. The house was 
banked up ; everything without and 
within made tight and trim, to defy as 
much as possible the -approach of old 

Thanksgiving brought a social sea- 
son. There was much visiting and dis- 
tribution of good cheer for a week 
or two after that holiday. Towards 
Christmas the fat hogs were killed, 
the pork salted, the hams hung in the 
wide chimney to cure, and the sau- 
sages made. The women began to 
comb flax and spin linen thread ; the 
men went daily to cut and haul the year's 
firewood. We were too good Puritan s 
to make much account of Christmas, 
though sometimes the young people at 
the main road got up a ball on Christ- 
mas eve, but at New Year, there was a 
general interchange of good wishes, 
with gifts and festivity. 

As soon as the spring weather would 
permit weaving without a fire, the 
looms in the back chamber were set in 
motion, weaving the next season's lin- 
en. Next came candle-dipping, the 


making of soap, and house cleaning. 
The calves had been sold, churning 
commenced, and butter was made until 
the warmer weather brought the sum- 
mer routine. 


Thanksgiving day I accompanied my 
parents to my Grandfather Little's. A 
visit to my mother's maiden home was 
at all times one of my highest pleasures. 
HfLy grandmother, a daughter of the first 
pastor of the upper parish, the Rev. 
William Johnson, was one of those 
rare women whom every one, old and 
3 T oung, rich and poor, loved and re- 
vered. A minister's daughter, and 
highly educated for those days, the 
wisdom of my grandfather's choice as 
regarded his worldly success, had been 
a subject of doubt throughout the fam- 
ily. His thrifty sisters all declared 
that ' ' Brother Jose could never get 
ahead with a wife so genteel as to wash 
her hearth every day, have a border of 
posies afore her front door to tend, be- 
sides ruffles on her leetle gal's sleeves 
to iron." Notwithstanding these dire 
prognostications, Brother Jose had 
reared a large family in comfort and 
some elegance. The house was similar 
to ours, the parlor furnished in much 
the same style as my Grandmother 
Smith's, with the addition of a pretty 
carpet of home construction in the 
centre of the floor. The arm chairs 
were also decorated with wrought cush- 
ion covers, and a pair of worked hold- 
ers hung on either side of the fireplace, 
these ornaments being the handiwork 
of deft Mollie Johnson before her mar- 


riage. At this time only two daugh- 
ters had left the paternal roof tree. 
Three sons and four daughters, with 
two or three apprentices, (my grand- 
father carried on shoe business in addi- 
to his farming), made a large, but 
pleasant and orderly household. 

Father and mother, grandsir, grand- 
ma'am and Uncle Bill went to meeting. 
Aunt Betsy and Aunt Judy remained 
at home, ostensibly to get the dinner, 
but they were so bus}' preparing for a 
party to which they had been invited 
for the evening that most of the cook- 
ing fell upon the younger, but more 
quiet and staid, Aunt Sukey. Rolick- 
ing Aunt Hannah, a girl of eight or 
nine, ran hither and thither, poking fun 
and helping everybody. Seizing the 
broom, she drew the freshly-strewn 
sand on the kitchen floor into a remark- 
able combination of zig-zags. Next 
she fell to basting the turkey, roast- 
ing on a spit, which rested on brackets 
on the tall iron andirons, flourish- 
ing the long-handled butter ladle in 
such a manner as to call forth the an- 
imadversions of Aunt Sukey, who de- 
clared that she would have the drip- 
pings, which fell into a pan beneath, 
" all over her clean hearth." 

Uncle Ben, a lad of twelve, brought 
wood and did other chores, meanwhile 
playing so many practical jokes on his 
gay elder sisters that the}* laughingly 
threatened to turn him out of the 
house. Roly-Poly Uncle Joe, only 
three years my senior, sat beside me on 
the form in the corner, where, with 
great glee, we watched the proceedings 
of our elders. The merry forenoon 
glided away. The hands of the tall 
clock in the corner of the room pointed 
to twelve. Aunt Hannah set the table 
with the best napery and ware, the 

pickles and apple-sauce were brought, 
the cider drawn, and the chafing dish 
filled, ready to put on the table to keep 
the gravy hot. How long those expect- 
ant moments seemed ! Uncle Joe and I 
ensconced ourselves at the window, 
while Aunt Hannah zealously basted 
the turkey, with the wish that Parson 
Toppan would end that "everlasting 
samion." At length the sleighs ap- 
peared. There had been a fall of snow 
the first of the season the night 
before, and it was pretty good sleigh- 
ing. The party entered, accompanied 
by Aunt Nannie, the second daughter, 
and her husband, Mr. John Peabody. 
This young man was descended from 
Lieut. Francis Peabody, born at St. Al- 
bans, Hartfordshire, England, in 1614. 
He came to New England in the ship 
Planter, Nicholas Frarcie, master, in 
1635. Mr. Peabody first resided at 
Ipswich. In 1638 he went to Hamp- 
ton, N. H., with the Rev. Stephen 
Bachilar and twelve others. He was 
made a freeman in 1642. and in 1649 
was chosen, by the town of Hampton, 
one of the three men ' to ende small 
causes", and was confirmed in that 
office by the justices of that court. 
"Being minded to live nearer Boston," 
he sold his estate in Hampton and pur- 
chased a farm in Topsfield, and became 
a large landholder in Topsfield, Box- 
ford and Rowley. He set up the first 
mill in Topsfield. on a stream that flows 
past the spot where he lived. Lieut. 
Peabody was a man of great capacity 
and influence. His wife was a daugh- 
ter of Reginald Foster, whose family 
is honorably mentioned in "Marmion" 
and -The Lay of the Last Minstrel". 
He died February 19, 1697 or 1698. 
His widow died April 9, 1705. Chil- 
dren : John, Joseph, William, Isaac ; 



Sarah m. How of Ipswich ; Hepsibah 
m. Rea of Salem Village ; Lydia m. 
Jacob Perley ; Maiy m. John Death of 
Framingham ; Ruth died before her 
father ; Damaris died Dec. 19, 1G60 ; 
Samuel died Sept. 13, 1677; Jacob 
d. in 1664 ; Hannah d. before her fath- 
er ; Nathaniel d. in 1715 without chil- 
dren. Of this large family three sons 
settled in Boxford, and two remained in 
Topsfield. The Peabodys have been a 
patriotic and brave race. Two officers 
and two privates served in the French 
war. Lieut. Jacob Peabody fell on the 
plains of Abraham in 1759. Six offi- 
cers, one chaplain, a surgeon, and as- 
sistant surgeon, a 1st officer in marine 
service, and five privates rendered mil- 
itary service during the Revolution. 
Capt. Richard Peabody commanded a 
company in the Continental amry, and 
sent his sons to war as fast as he was 
able. Nathaniel Peabody of Atkinson, 
N. H., commanded a regiment in the 
war of the Revolution, and subsequent- 
ly represented his state in the Conti- 
nental Congress. Amongst the clergy 
the Peabodys count many eminent men. 
The Rev. Oliver Peabod}*, who died in 
Natick ; the twin brothers, William 
Oliver Bourne and Oliver William 
Bourne ; Rev. David Peabody, profes- 
soa in the college at Hanover ; Rev. 
Andrew P. Peabody D. D., professor 
of ^Harvard University, and Rev. Eph- 
raim Peabody of Boston. Professor 
Silliman of Yale College, descended 
from a Peabody. In medicine, law 
and the various walks of life, the fam- 
ily reputation has been ably sustained. 
Capt. John, the oldest son of Lieut. 
Francis Peabody, lived in Boxford, 
was made a freeman in 1674, represen- 
tative from 1689 to 1691. He married 
first, Hannah Andrews ; second, Surah 

Mosely. He died in 1720 aged 78. 
Children : John ; Thomas ; Mary mar- 
ried Richard Hazen ; Lydia m. Jacob 
Perley ; David born July 12, 1672 ; 
Elizabeth m. David Andrew ; Nathan ; 
Hannah m. Jos. Buckman ; Ruth' m. 
John Wood of Boxford ; Moses. En- 
sign David Peabody m. Sarah Pope of 
Dartmouth. He lived in Boxford, died 
April 1, 1726 aged 48. His widow d. 
Sept. 29, 1756, aged 72. Children: 
Thomas ; Hannah m. Jona. Fuller ol 
Sutton ; Sarah m. Daniel Wood ; Mer- 
cy, d. Sept. 26, 1793 ; John ; Debo- 
rah, d. Aug. 21, 1736 ; Rebecca, m. 
Richard Dexter ; Susanna, d. Oct. 
1794; David, born Oct. 4, 1724; Ma- 
ry, d. in 1736 ; David Peabody m. Ma- 
ry Gaines of Ipswich, and settled on a 
farm in Andover. Having become a 
zealous member of the Baptist com- 
munion, he moved to Haverhifl, where 
a church of that denomination had 
been established. A short time after 
his removal he died, on Aug. 16, 1774, 
aged 50. His widow died in New- 
buryport, at the residence of her son- 
in-law, Mr. Leonard Smith, April, 
1806, aged 77. Children: Lucy m. 
Peter Middleton, lived in Haverhill 
and Bradford ; David d. in the West In- 
dies ; Sarah m. Leonard Smith ; Mary 
m. William Farmer of Bradford ; Ju- 
dith m. William Butler, lived in New- 
buryport ; Thomas m. Judith daughter 
of Jeremiah and Judith (Spofford) 
Dodge. These were the parents of 
David, George, the well-known bank- 
er; and Jeremiah Dodge Peabody of 
Ohio. Deborah m. James Becket, re- 
sided in Salem; Abigail in 1765, m. 
Edmund Greenleaf of Newburyport ; 
John born Feb 22, 1768 ; Josiah 
Gaines m. Edna Greenough, resided in 
Porstmouth. Mrs. David Peabody at 



her husband's death, was left with this 
large family of young children. John 
was apprenticed to learn the trade of 
a shoe-maker to Mr. Josiah Bartlett of 
Newbury. Upon coming of age he es- 
tablished himself at the main road. In 
addition to the shoe trade, he set up a 
general furnishing store. March 30, 
1791, he married Anna, second daugh- 
ter of Joseph and Mary (Johnson) 
Little, of Newbury. The } r oung couple 
set up housekeeping in a house contig- 
uous to the shop, which stood next be- 
low the residence of Dea. John Osgood. 
The Peabodys date back to Boadie, a 
gallant British chieftain, who, in the 
year A. D. 61, came to the rescue of 
his noble and chivalrous Queen and 
kinswoman, Boadicea, when "bleeding 
from the Roman rods." From the dis- 
astrous battle in which she lost her 
crown and life, he fled to the Cambrian 
mountains, in Wales. There his pos- 
terity lived and became a terror to the 
Lowlands. From their frequent raids 
into the Roman territory, he was desig- 
nated Pea Bodie (Mountain Man ; Pea 
signifying mountain, and Bodie man). 
Some members of the family retained 
the British name, Peabody ; others an- 
glicysed it into Hillman, some as the 
German Bergmann, while others divid- 
ed it into its constituents, thus origin- 
ating the names of Hill and Mann. 
There was a Peabody among the 
-Knights of the Round Table, the name 
being registered with due heraldric 
honors, by command of King Arthur. 
Boadie, with his own hand, killed 
Galbuta, a distinguished Roman gener- 
al, and, following the custom of assum- 
ing the arms of the vanquished if he 
were a person of note, Boadie copied 
the two suns proper from the armor of 

Galbuta and adopted them as his own 




Dinner was immediately set upon the 
table. Grace having been said, due 
justice was given to the turkey and plum 
pudding. Aunt Sukey receiA'ed many 
encomiums upon her cooking, part of 
which Aunt Hannah declared she should 
appropriate. " Sukey never would 
have basted that turkey as I did, for 
fear of injuring her fine complexion." 
Then the wild little minx, as her sisters 
termed her, fell to clearing the table, 
having first stirred the kettle of boiling 
dish-water with the knives and forks, 
"in order that it should not boil away 
the beaux." The girls washed the din- 
ner things ; the others repaired to the 
"fore room", where Uncle Ben had a 
bright fire blazing across the shiny 
black fire-dogs, with nigger faces, which 
my roguish young uncle wished me to 
admire. Aunt Hannah called me to go 
with her up stairs, to see the girls 

When Nannie was married, their 
father had given his two next oldest 
daughters silk dresses. This had 
called forth severe animadversion from 
his sisters. "To think of Brother 



Jose's extravagance ; and he had 
bought all of them, but Hanner, gold 
necklaces, ear-drops and a finger ring ! 
Well, they allers said he never could 
be forehanded when he married Mollie 
Johnson, she was so high bred and had 
so much 'Port' company." These and 
similar speeches, which, somehow, al- 
wa}'s got reported to the subject of 
them, caused my grandfather's family 
much diversion. Miss Betty Brad- 
street, a wealthy cousin of my grand- 
mother, a maiden lady, and a resident 
of the "Port", had upon a recent visit 
brought my two aunts each a brooch to 
match theii\; t ear-drops, and the girls 
made themselves very meriy over what 
their father's sisters would say to this 
addition to their finery, each devoutly 
hoping that they would never know but 
their brother had purchased them. 
The brown silks were vastly becoming. 
They were made with full skirts, tight 
waists, low square necks, with tight 
sleeves reaching just below the elbow, 
finished by a ruflie, with an under one 
of lace. The neck was covered by a 
square white muslin handkerchief, doub- 
led and tucked under the dress, im- 
mensely puffed out in front, long black 
net mitts covered the hands and arms, 
and when the jewelry was added, to my 
childish eyes my two girlish aunts pre- 
sented the very acme ot splendor. 

My mother and aunts were ver}' hand- 
some women. Never did six sisters 
more closely resemble each other. I 
have often heard it remarked, that in 
after years, when dressed alike in 
mourning, at a funeral, it was difficult 
to distinguish one from another. I 
would that their portraits were extant ; 
they would form a rare galaxy of 
beauty. Of medium hight, trim fig- 
ures, small hands and feet, black 

hair and eyes (with the exception of 
Nannie's, whose were deep blue) , fair 
skin, cherry lips, white teeth, a brilliant 
color, the eyes sparkling, with much ex- 
pression in conversation, a lively mien, 
tempered by much grace and sensibili- 
ty, great courtesy and kindness of 
heart little wonder that the six Little 
girls should become the reigning toasts 
of the period. Their toilets completed, 
my aunts joined the rest in the parlor. 
Nuts were cracked, apples roasted, a 
mug of flip was made, songs sung and 
stories told. At dusk father went home 
to do his chores ; soon after, Amos Chase 
and Stephen Bartlett came to take their 
affianced to the party. These young 
gentlemen were amiyed in blue coats, 
with brass buttons, buff vests, satin 
breeches, silk stockings, silver knee and 
shoe buckles, their hair frizzled, pow- 
dered and cued. 

The evening's entertainment was at 
Deacon Tenuey's. Mrs. Tenney, my 
father's eldest sister, like my grand- 
mother Little, had a house full of girls. 
The deacon, though honoring his office, 
was the prince of hospitality, and an in- 
vitation to his house gave occasion for 
much satisfaction. After the young 
people had gone, Mr, and Mrs. Pea- 
body and Uncle Bill having accompan- 
ied them, grandsir, grandma'm and my 
mother drew round the fire for a quiet 
chat. We children went into the kitch- 
en to play blind man's buff, aunt Su- 
key, much to our delight, condescending 
to join in the sport. At seven o'clock, 
my father having returned, supper was 
served. Soon after, as my eyelids, not- 
withstanding strenuous exertions to the 
contrary, would shut, mother declared 
it was time for home. 

The next da}' we dined and spent the 
evening in my grandmother Smith's 



room. Uncle and aunt Thurrell came 
to tea, and other neighboring relatives 
dropped in for the evening. Saturday 
afternoon mother had company, but as 
Saturday night was considered holy 
time, they left at an early hour. The 
next week was one continued festival. 
Visiting was general throughout the 
parish. Each one's skill in cooking 
was discussed, and the merits of differ- 
ent persons' mince pies and plum cake 
pronounced. Nor was the visiting con- 
fined to the females, the gentlemen of- 
ten came alone. Two of four neigh- 
bors for j'ears made it a practice to 
come together to take tea with us the 
week following Thanksgiving. Never 
shall I forget the gusto with which they 
demolished the huge piles of dipped 
toast, or the way they smacked their 
lips over the pies and cake, all the 
while declaring "that for cooking, little 
Prudy Smith bore the palm." 


The Puritan Sabbath commenced at 
sunset Saturday night a literal inter- 
pretation of the scripture text "And 
the evening and the morning were the 
first day." Supper eaten, silence and 
rest settled over the household. To 
most this was a grateful period of re- 
pose, in which, in the long evenings, 
they were only to happy too fold their 
hands and doze away the hours till the 
early bedtime, eight o'clock being the 
usual hour for retiring on that night. 
Others were glad of this leisure for read- 
ing, but many could not have been in- 
duced to peruse anything save the Bible, 
psalm book, a sermon or some religious 
treatise. My father and mother were 

less strict. Father usually passed the 
time in conning the columns of the 
"Independent Chronicle and Universal 
Advertiser," a weekly sheet of small 
size, printed by "Nathaniel AVillis. 
Boston, opposite the New Court 
House," which was taken conjointly 
with Uncle Amos Dole. In 1793 
"The Impartial Herald," ( Newbury- 
port Herald) was established in New- 

Deacon Tenney had a thriving tobac- 
conist business, and he went to Boston 
two or three times a month, with snuff 
and cigars ; upon his return he usually 
brought some reading matter. This 
was a rare treat, especially to my moth- 
er. Saturday evening was an oasis in 
her life of toil ; the one space of soul 
refreshment eagerly anticipated through 
the week, but I fear her studies would 
not always have been pronounced can- 
onical. Great-grandfather Johnson's 
3'oungest daughter married Master Si- 
mon Chase, a school teacher of much 
renown, and a man devoted to litera- 
ture. Besides man}* books of his own, 
to which he was constantly adding, he 
had, through his wife, come into poses- 
sion of most of her father's library. 
This couple resided in the former par- 
sonage, even'thing still remaining as it 
had been in the minister's lifetime. 
Mother, being a frequent visitor at her 
aunt Hannah's, was usually supplied 
with a book from their shelves, and 
father sometimes brought her one of the 
love-laden romances of the period, 
loaned to her by some of her "Port" 

Sunday, if in health, everybody was 
expected to attend public worship. In 
warm weather, grandmother and Aunt 
Sarah drove together in the square 
topped chaise. Uncle Enoch usually 



walked ; my father rode on his hand- 
some horse, my mother riding on the 
pillion behind him. At a very early 
age, as I was a quiet little girl, much 
to my jo} r I was permitted to go to 
meeting, and usually rode between my 
grandmother and aunt in the chaise, but 
sometimes was perched on mother's 
lap, a ride I vastly enjoyed, espescially 
if father put his horse to a gallop. 

Never shall I forget my first advent 
at meeting. Great had been the prep- 
aration for this public appearance, for 
mother had a good share of wholesome 
sort of pride, and, as was natural for 
a youthful matron, wished her little 
daughter to look as prett}' as possible. 
Grandmother Little owned a famously 
embroidered, linen cambric christening 
frock, and this garment having done ser- 
vice at all the baptisms, was now remod- 
elled for my Sunday dress. Mother con- 
structed a tasty green silk bonnet, and 
Grandfather Little presented a pair of 
red shoes, of his own make. 

The meeting house, a square, weather 
embrowned structure, without steeple 
or bell, crowned a high hill, up which a 
stony road wound in steep ascent. A 
horse block for the convenience of the 
pillion riders stood by the front steps, 
and a long row of low sheds, shelter for 
the horses, extended to the left. The 
interior was a handsome specimen 
of the ecclesiastical architecture of the 
period. The wide front door led 
through a broad aisle to a high pulpit 
furnished with green cushions. A 
sounding board depended from the ceil- 
ing above, and the communion table 
stood in front. A sounding board usu- 
ally was about eight feet in diameter, 
and shaped like an inverted wine-glass 
flattened toward the brim ; it hung 
some six feet above the pulpit cushion. 

Generally this adjunct to the sacred 
desk displa} r ed gracefulness of design 
and beaut}' of decoration. A circular 
moulding enclosed the suspending rod 
where it entered the ceiling. This ap- 
pendage was to aid the speaker by 
equally diffusing the sound of the voice 
in every part of the building. 

The broad aisle was intersected by a 
narrower one, into which side entrances 
opened. Another aisle ran around the 
edifice, separating the wall pews from 
those in the body of the house. These 
pews were enclosed by handsomely 
turned balusters. Front of the pulpit 
were rows of seats, for the accommo- 
dation of those wishing to be near 
the preacher, or elderly persons who 
were not pew holders. The benches to 
the right were for females, those to the 
left for males. The singers occupied 
the front gallery, to which a flight of 
stairs led each side of the front door. 
The side galleries were furnished with 
one long pew, extending the length of 
the wall ; the space in front was filled 
with benches. The wall pew to the 
right was set apart for the young wom- 
en ; girls occupied the centre tier of 
benches, while the front was filled by 
middle-aged women. The opposite gal- 
lery was similarly occupied by young 
men in the wall pew, boys and men on 
the benches. The large, square pews, 
in addition to the seats, were furnished 
with one or two high-backed chairs, 
which stood in the centre. These were 
commonly of rich wood, handsomely 
carved, with flag seats. These chairs 
were the posts of honor, and were usu- 
ally occupied by elderly ladies. Be- 
sides the chairs, there was generally 
one or more high stools, for the accom- 
modation of the more infantile portion 
of the congregation. Ours was a wall 



pew, the second to the right from the 
front door. My grandmother led me 
in and placed me on a stool beside her 
chair. Mother, somewhat flustered, 
but looking proud and pleased, seated 
herself behind me, and Aunt Sarah 
fidgeted around, placing the highest 
footstool beneath my feet. How vast 
and splendid everything seemed! At 
length I began to take in details and 
recognize my relatives and acquaint- 
ances. There were Grandsir's and 
Uncle John Little's pew ; Uncle Thur- 
rell's ; the Doles' ; those of Aunt Sara, 
Col. Thomas ; Mr. Stephen and Enoch 
Noyes, Deacon Osgood, Mr. Newell, 
the Emerys, Carrs, Bartletts, Follans- 
bees, Baileys, Uncle John and Deacon 
Abel Merrill, Dr. Sawyer ; the parson- 
age pew, to the left of the pulpit ; those 
of the Plummers, Woodmans, Chases, 
Ilsleys, Bricketts, Hills, Adamses, 
Carletons and Jaques. The pew match- 
ing that of the parsonage, to the right of 
the pulpit, had several owners, and bore 
the designation of ''Everybody's pew". 
Elderly women in close, black silk bon- 
nets, and thick silks or bright chintzes, 
quietly seated themselves, with demure, 
"Sabba' day" faces. More youthful 
matrons and maidens glided in, radiant 
in lighter silks, white muslins or cam- 
bric calicoes, and silk hats of various 
hues, gail}" trimmed with ribbons, flow- 
ers or long, waving plumes. Little 
folks, like myself, stared about, or 
twirled the balusters of the pews. 
The three deacons Tenney, Merrill 
and Osgood entered and took their 
places beneath the pulpit. Par- 
son Toppan, in his black gown and 
white bands, accompanied by his wife 
and family, walked majestically up the 
broad aisle. There was the clatter of 
many feet, as the minister's entrance 

was the signal for the men and boys 
who had been grouped around the 
meeting-house, to come in. Tithing- 
man Tewkesbury, his long pole in hand, 
took his place amidst the boys in the 
gallery ; Sexton Cooper tip-toed to his 
seat on the pulpit stairs. Parson Top- 
pan rose and read two lines of a psalm ; 
Deacon Osgood stepped forward and 
repeated them ; mother's cousin, Ed- 
mund Little, with a pitch-pipe, set the 
tune ; the choir sang the lines ; the two 
next were given out, and thus the 
psalm was sung. This was followed 
by a long prayer and a longer sermon. 
The benediction pronounced, there was 
a moment's pause ; then the minister 
descended from the pulpit, took his 
wife upon his arm, and, followed by his 
children, proceeded down the aisle, the 
clerical cortege gracefully returning the 
respectful bows and courtsies of the 
congregation. The clergyman's family 
was followed by the more aristocratic 
persons from the pews ; these by the 
remainder of the audience. Many peo- 
ple, especially in cold weather, took 
their dinner, and staid at the meeting- 
house during the short intermission. 
In winter Ave rode in the large, high- 
backed sleigh. Sometimes, when storm 
and wind had prevented the breaking 
of the paths, father and Uncle Enoch 
walked to meeting on their snow shoes, 
and Mr. Josiah Bartlett would yoke 
his oxen and take his large faniily 
thither on the sled. 


The fourth parish in Newbury, like 
its predecessor at the river side, and 
the parent societ}' at Old town, belong- 



ed to what might be termed, the low 
church wing of Congregationalism. 
The Rev. William Johnson had been 
strongly opposed to the more rigid 
views of some of his brethren in the 
ministry. He would not admit the re- 
nowned Whitefield into his pulpit, and 
the great revivalist was obliged to 
preach in a private house. 

I have often heard my great aunt 
Sara Noyes describe the sensation pro- 
duced by the eloquent divine. My 
greatgrandfather, Deacon John Noyes, 
fully sympathized in the disapproval 
evinced by his pastor, and he issued a 
strict edict forbidding any of his fam- 
ily attending what he termed "those 
disorderly assemblies." Aunt Sara, 
then a girl in her teens, entertained, as 
was natural, a strong desire to see and 
hear one whose name was on every 
tongue, and whose words and their 
effects were the chief topics of conver- 
sation on every side. At last, after 
much fear and trembling, she musr 
tered courage to make a clandes- 
tine attempt to satisfy her curiosity. 
An evening meeting was to be 
held at a house in the vicinity, 
and she determined to brave her fath- 
er's displeasure, if her absence was 
discovered, and go. It was a dark, 
cheerless night, when, with a throbbing 
heart, stealing down the stairs and 
noiselessly opening the door, she ran 
lightly down the gravel' walk. Her 
hand was on the latch of the front 
gate, when a voice, in an authoritative 
tone, exclaimed ' ' Go back ! " Startled, 
affrighted, she stopped, turned, and 
peered on all sides into the darkness. 
No one was in sight. Through the un- 
curtained window she could see her 
father and the other members of her 
family seated around the bright wood 


fire. Concluding that, owing to the 
nervous timidity which this disobedi- 
ence to paternal mandates had caused, 
imagination had conjured up this voice, 
with another long 1 and searching look 
around, she opened the gate. " Go 
back ! " reiterated the voice, even more 
decidedly than at first, just in her ear. 
What could it mean? Again she 
stopped, waited, looked and listened. 
Nothing unusual could be seen, and 
not a sound could be heard save the 
wind sighing through the trees. Sara 
Noyes was a resolute girl, not easily 
turned from any purpose she had de- 
liberately formed, neither had she much 
belief in the supernatural. Thrusting 
back her fears, with a strong will she 
stilled her throbbing heart, and with a 
firm step, she again started forward. 
"Go back, go back," thundered the 
voice, in such a powerful and author- 
itative tone, that, thrilling in every 
nerve, the astonished girl, completely 
subdued, hastily turned, and fled into 
the house. Though she lived to a great 
age, and could never be reckoned a 
credulous person, to the last hour of 
her life she firmly believed that this was 
a Divine interposition to keep her from 

The Rev. David Toppan, the succes- 
sor of the Rev. William Johnson, enter- 
tained even more liberal tenets than 
his predecessor. A genial, courteous 
gentleman, ready to sympathize with 
his charge, in their various phases of 
weal and woe. Parson Toppan was a 
universal favorite. His marriage with 
a towns- woman, Miss Mary Sawyer, 
the daughter of Dr. Enoch Sawyer, 
drew him still nearer to the hearts of his, 

The intelligence that their pastor 
contemplated leaving for a professor- 


ship at Harvard, which began to be 
circulated in the spring of 1792, 
brought both consternation and grief. 
It could not be. A minister ought to 
live and die amidst the people over 
which he had been ordained. After 
many contradictory rumors the matter 
became at length decided. At the 
Thursday lecture, Parson Toppan, after 
a brief summary of the conflicting 
opinions then agitating the churches, 
announced the invitation he had re- 
ceived to a professorship at the college 
at Cambridge, and his intention of ac- 
cepting it. "This decision had been 
made after much hesitation and prayer- 
ful consideration. Heresy was creep- 
ing into the institution, and it was in- 
cumbent upon every one to put forth 
their full power in support of sound 
doctrine. Neither the honor nor the 
emolument had borne a feather's weight 
in this separation from his beloved 
charge, but what he considered a call 
to a higher duty, gave him no option 
but to obey." At these words, up jump- 
ed old Mr. Moses Newell, and with 
ire imprinted on his countenance, shak- 
ing his clenched fist at his pastor, he 
shouted, "you lie, Parson Toppan, you 
know 3'ou lie." Instantly the congre- 
gation was in commotion, but the min- 
ister by his quiet demeanor and calm 
tones quelled the tumult ; order was 
restored, Mr. Toppan closed the servi- 
ces, and the audience dispersed with 
sorrow in their hearts, and grief im- 
printed upon their faces, but with the 
firm conviction that their pastor was 
right ; painful as this separation was, 
it must be made ; inclination must be 
sacrificed to duty. Old Mr. Newell 
became pacified. His wife and son ex- 
erted themselves to this end. The old 
gentleman apologized, and invited the 

clergyman and his wife to dine, with a 
small party of select friends, at his 
house. There were many parting vis- 
its, and a general catechising of the 
children throughout the parish. 

It was the custom to hold these cat- 
echisings annually, sometime during 
the spring or summer, usually on some 
afternoon in the middle of the week, in 
a house centrally located in each school 
district. As Parson Toppan wished to 
personally bid adieu to every child of 
his large flock, the catechising was ap- 
pointed somewhat earlier that year than 
usual. The children of our district 
met at nry grand father Little's. Though 
I was young to attend, being a pet of 
the parson's, who was a frequent visitor 
of the family, much to my delight I 
was permitted to go. With a throb- 
bing heart, clinging to aunt Hannah's 
hand on one side and uncle Joe's on 
the other, I entered the large parlor 
where sat my grandparents and older 
aunts. Parson Toppan occupied the 
large arm chair which he drew into the 
centre of the floor. The children 
ranged in a line in front. Having tak- 
en our places the recitations com- 
menced. With much care mother had 
taught me the " chief end of man," 
and one or two of the shortest com- 
mandments. Though terribly flustered 
till nry turn came, when it was my time 
to speak I was so earnest to repeat the 
lesson right that this self-consciousness 
passed ; thus I was enabled to do my- 
self due credit. The good minister 
and my grandparents and aunts praised 
me, the elder children gathered around, 
petting and caressing the smallest and 
youngest of the class. Altogether it 
was as great a triumph as I ever achiev- 
ed or enjoyed. The catechisings and 
parting visits were over. The last, sad 



Sunday came and a farewell sermon 
was preached, the last tearful parting 
had passed, and the upper parish be- 
came a society without a pastor. 

Candidates began to supply the pul- 
pit. Once a mouth one of the neigh- 
boring clergymen came to preach and 
administer the communion. The Rev. 
Barnard Tucker of the Oldtown socie- 
ty died that March. His successor, 
Rev. Mr. Moore, was not settled until 
about two years later. At the " Port" 
at that period there were three socie- 
ties : The First Church, where Parson 
Gary had succeeded Dr. Lowell, the 
first minister ; the Old South , where 
the venerable and sainjly Parson Mur- 
ray still occupied the pulpit ; and the 
North, where the Hopkinsian Dr. 
Spring poured forth his fiery zeal. 
There was also St. Paul's Episcopal 
church, of which Bishop Bass was rec- 
tor, but with this society ours, of 
course, had no communion. 

I well remember the delight my 
mother always expressed when Parson 
Cary preached. He was her favorite 
minister, but most of her town rela- 
tions and friends attended on his min- 
istration, and many of the halcyon days 
of her maidenhood had been connected 
with this clergyman and his people. 
This may have induced an undue par- 
tiality, still from my childish impress- 
ion I infer that Parson Cary, until 
broken by ill health, was both a fine 
writer and an eloquent speaker. 

The Rev. True Kimball was at this 
time pastor of the Second parish in 
Newbury, and the Byfield parish had 
recently ordained the Rev. Elijah- Par- 
ish, afterwards the distinguished Fed- 
eralist divine, whose alpha and omega 
thundered over the land. His eminent 
talents and commanding eloquence had 

then just begun to attract public atten- 
tion. There was also Master Smith, 
the preceptor of Dummer Academy. 
He often came over to fill the pulpit 
when other supply failed. I was great- 
ly amused with this preacher. Short, 
stout and plethoric, with an abrupt, ab- 
sent air, and a most singular pronunci- 
ation, this gentleman was a never- fail- 
ing object for merriment amongst the 
juveniles of the congregation. One of 
his peculiarities was never closing his 
eyes when in prayer. People said he 
had acquired the habit of praying with 
his eyes open in school, keeping watch 
and ward over a parcel of unruly boys. 
Whatever the reason, he used to step 
forward in the pulpit, clasp his hands 
on the cushion, and in short, curt tones 
exclaim: "Ulmitty Gud ! " This was 
the unvarjing commencement of his 
opening prayer. The preceptor had 
the reputation of being a great linguist. 
It was affirmed that he knew so many 
languages that he had partly forgotten 
his own. Whether or no, the man was 
a great oddity ; one of those isolated 
beings whose characteristics are wholly 

The neighboring town of Bradford, 
that part of which is now Groveland, 
also rejoiced in another somewhat re- 
markable clergyman. Parson Dutch 
was what is denominated a smart 
preacher. He was also distinguished 
for his equine tastes and jockey predi- 
lections. I have often heard my father 
laugh over an incident that occurred 
one Sunday about the time of which I 
am writing. It was a hot summer day, 
the doors of the meeting-house were 
wide open. Parson Dutch had come to 
preach. He had risen to open the 
afternoon service, when a stranger, 
mounted upon a superb charger, rode; 



up to the front entrance. Tying his 
steed opposite the door, he entered the 
sanctuary. Parson Dutch, from the 
pulpit, commanded a full view of the 
horse, and his audience averred that he 
watched it "all through the sermon." 
Father said : " If it had not been Sab- 
ba' day the parson would have proposed 
a swap ; he knew he longed to bargain. 
He thought he would, spite of the day 
and his cloth." 

Father Frisby, as he was universally 
denominated, a much-beloved and ven- 
erated old man, was the minister at the 
adjacent town of Boxford. "We had 
many candidates, amongst whom were 
young men that in later years became 
"burning and shining lights." 

Year after year rolled past, and still 
we were without a minister. Like the 
rest of New England, the parish became 
divided in sentiment, part adhering to 
the Arminian tenets, the others going 
over to what was called the Hopkiusian 


The summer I was four years old I 
began to attend school. The school- 
house in our district was not erected unr 
til some years later, the scholars being 
accommodated, up to that period, in a 
private house on the Crane-neck road, 
a short distance below where the pres- 
ent school edifice is located. My first 
teacher, Master Zack. Bacon, was a na- 
tive of Bradford. Female teachers 
would then have been deemed inadmis- 
sible in a district school. It would not 
have been thought possible that order 
could be maintained under feminine 
rule, where often more than half the 

scholars were unruly boj'S, many of the 
eldest men grown. 

The school was taught in the larger 
of the two front rooms, the remainder 
of the house being occupied by my 
mother's cousin, Edmund Little. We 
entered by the front door ; the hats and 
bonnets were hung in the entry. The 
schoolroom was furnished with a desk 
and a flag-seated chair for the teacher ; 
a clumsy square board table stood in 
the centre of the apartment, surround- 
ed by high, wooden benches. Here 
were seated the older pupils ; the 
younger were placed upon low forms 
ranged around the walls. The scholars 
were divided i$ito four ranks : the 
" Bible," " Testament," " Spelling 
Book" and "Primer" classes. Dil- 
worth's spelling book was the one then 
in use. The older scholars studied 
arithmetic, and wrote. Writing books 
were a later invention. A strong, coarse 
paper of foolscap size was then used, 
either in single sheets or several stitched 
together in book form. This paper, be- 
ing plain, was ruled. Lead pencils were 
then a thing unknown ; a plummet of 
lead supplied their place. These plum- 
mets were usually of home construction, 
and were cut in various devices, to suit 
the taste of the owner. The arithmet- 
ical rules and sums were also copied in- 
to books kept specially for that purpose. 
Master Bacon, a short, slight young 
man, somewhat of a dandy, and fresh 
from college, was a little inclined to 
what is now denominated "fast". 
Though one of the liveliest and most 
entertaining of mortals out of school, 
within he maintained a stem decorum, 
quite awful to a timid novice, like my- 
self; but, as I had already mastered 
my alphabet and was exceedingly fasci- 
nated by my new primer, I immediately 



became a favorite with the teacher. 
With what sadness I used to gaze at 
that memorable picture of John Rogers 
at the stake. How many times I have 
counted the heads, to ascertain whether 
there were ten or eleven little ones. 
How my s3 T mpathies went out to those 
poor children and their distressed moth- 

With what genuine delight I would 


" In Adam's fall 
We sinned all. 
The cat dotli play, 
And after slay." 

With what pride I would repeat : "Who 
was the first man ? Adam ; Who was 
the first woman ? Eve : Who was the 
first murderer? Cain; Who was the 
first martyr ? Abel ; " and the remain- 
der of the long list of Biblical biogra- 

The first morning Master Bacon 
opened the school without prayer. The 
scholars reported, and in the evening 
he was waited upon by several of the 
dignitaries of the district, to ascertain 
the cause of the omission. The gentle- 
man excused the oversight, with the 
promise that it should never be repeat- 
ed. Accordingly we scholars were fa- 
vored henceforth with an unusually long 
petition morning and evening, the gen- 
tleman assuring his chums that he had 
as lief pray as do anything else for 
the money. Master Bacon taught the 
school for two years, with much accept- 
ance ; he then removed to a wider 
sphere of action. Afterward he emi- 
grated to Vermont, where he became a 
leading citizen. 

His successor was Samuel Moody 
from the Falls parish. This gentle- 
man, a very handsome and well-brec 
young man, besides being an excellen 
teacher, was proficient as a violinist 

lis fiddle was a never-failing source of 
delight. I was a great favorite with 
Master Sam. He always led me home 
rom school, and as he boarded at my 
great-uncle John Little's, I was daily 
favored with a tune. 

Master Ned Longfellow, also from 
Byfield, next taught the school. He 
soon after removed to Maine, where he 
Became distinguished. It is from this 
family that the poet, Henry Wads worth 
Longfellow, is descended. 

The summer I was eight years old a 
Miss Ruth Emerson, from Hamp stead, 
N. H., collected a select school. There 
were from twenty to thirty scholars, 
mostly girls ; there were a few small 
bo}-s. I believe the tuition was but six 
cents a week. This lady promoted us 
into " Webster's Spelling Book" and 
"Webster's Third Part" books then 
just coming into use. Miss Emerson 
was a most accomplished needlewoman, 
inducting her pupils into the mysteries 
of ornamental marking and embroidery. 
This fancy work opened a new world of 
delight. I became perfectly entranced 
over a sampler that was much admired, 
and a muslin handkerchief, that I 
wrought for mother, became the wonder 
of the neighborhood. 

My father had purchased the portion 
of the homestead inherited by his 
brother Samuel, and that gentleman, 
after much hesitation and deliberation, 
at length decided upon the arduous un- 
dertaking of emigrating to a new coun- 
try. Several of his wife's relations had 
recently located themselves upon farms 
in Vermont. Mrs. Smith was anxious 
to join them. " She was tired of living 
in such an old-settled place, where, un- 
less one possessed a large farm, for 
years they must play second fiddle, 
screw and scrimp to secure a mere com- 



petence. For her part she preferred to 
go into the wilderness, where, if things 
were not as nice, one lived as their 
neighbors. She had rather be at 
the 'head of the poor than the tail 
of the rich.' In Vermont, where 
land was cheap, they could secure a 
goodly number of acres. The boys 
would become more useful every year. 
In time they could get forehanded ; be 
as well off as any one. Then, as her 
husband possessed fine literary tastes 
and some culture, it opened a sphere 
for his ambition. She would not be 
surprised if he became an influential 
and distinguished citizen." 

Swedenborg affirms that man posses- 
ses the understanding, and woman the 
will. Uncle Sam, after mature consid- 
eration, could find no valid reason for 
insubordination to the feminine will ; a 
tract of land in the town of Berlin was 
purchased, and the preparations for a 
removal thither commenced. February 
was the time set for the flitting, as that 
mouth usually gave the best sledding, 
a great desideratum for the transmis- 
sion of the household goods. Such a 
flurry as the whole family and all its 
collateral branches were in, for several 
weeks, seldom occurs in a life-time. 
Clothing for a year or two in advance 
must be prepared. One sister cut a 
generous quarter from her web of linen ; 
another from her fulled cloth ; a third 
presented blankets ; another relative 
gave cloth for woolen dresses, and 
stocking yarn. Several ladies, rela- 
tives and friends, clubbed together and 
bought a number of handsome articles 
as parting gifts. There was a round 
of farewell visits, each of which was 
turned into a sewing-bee for the benefit 
of the emigrants. A large sleigh was 
constructed, which was covered by one 

ofthe check ed woolen coverlets then so 
much used. A quantity of provisions 
was provided, cooked meats and poul- 
try, pies, cake, doughnuts, bread, but- 
ter and cheese were packed into a 
wooden box ; this, other luggage, a 
feather bed, bedding and coverlets, 
were placed in the sleigh, along with 
the family. It was necessary to thus 
prepare for th^e night's accomodation, 
as the houses of entertainment on the 
route were few in number, small, and 
often over-crowded. The furniture was 
loaded upon two ox-sleds. My father 
drove his sled, to which was attached 
a 3*oke of oxen and a horse. Mr. Bai- 
le} r , Aunt Smith's brother, drove the 
other team. Uncle Sam had a yoke of 
oxen forward of his brother's pair, and 
another relative drove his four cows. 
It was a clear, frosty morning when the 
cavalcade took their departure. A sad 
parting to all, but especially to me, 
as my cousin Sally, a girl of my own 
age, and nry other cousins, had been 
my playmates from infancy. A lone- 
some fortnight followed : two weeks 
that, then, appeared as long as two years 
have since. To add to 1113* discomfort 
and loneliness, my little brother, like 
other baby boys, toddling into mischief, 
contrived, during the momentary ab- 
sence of mother, to pull over the tea- 
kettle, which was standing in the chim- 
ney corner, scalding his right arm and 
hand badly. 

Mother went silently about the house 
with a worried look. Grandmother 
dozed through the da}*s in her low 
chair, tipped back against the ceiling 
by the fireplace. Aunt Sarah was not 
half as brisk and cheery as usual, and 
Uncle Enoch grew decidedly surly. 
Poor little Jim's arm grew worse, 
Mother and Aunt Sarah became anx- 



ious, when one of the neighbors brought 
in Mrs. Salter's recipe for a- burn. 
Mrs. Salter, a somewhat noted woman 
at the "Port," had effected many cures. 
It was concluded to try the prescrip- 
tion. A linen glove and sleeve were 
fitted over the burn ; these were kept 
saturated with a mixture of olive oil 
and snow water, beat to a froth. In 
less than a week the sore was healed 
and a new skin formed. The sun was 
just setting, on the twenty-first day of 
father's absence ; I was dragging little 
Jim across the sanded floor upon his 
tiny sled, when Aunt Sarah's glad tones 
reverberated over the house " Broth- 
er Jim 's come ; Brother Jim 's coming 
up the lane." There was a general 
rush to the back door. Yes, oh joy ! 
there was father, unyoking his oxen at 
the gate. A regular jubilee ensued. 
The sirloin steak that had been kept 
for this occasion was cooked ; a plate 
of the nicest cream toast dipped ; the 
best mince pie, plum cake, doughnuts, 
cheese and preserves were placed upon 
the table. Grandma'am, Aunt Sarah 
and Uncle Enoch joined us at supper. 
After tea, as the news spread that 
"Jim Smith had got home," the neigh- 
bors flocked in to hear of the journey 
and the new country which he had vis- 
ited. The room was soon filled, and a 
cordial welcome was given to the trav- 
eller. We could not but be pleased at 
the evident satisfaction manifested at 
father's safe return. I was permitted to 
sit up till an unwonted hour, to hear a 
description of the journey ; of the slow 
progress through the long, cold daj r s ; 
and the weary nights at the small, in- 
convenient taverns, which were often so 
crowded that the males of the company 
were obliged to sleep on the kitchen 
floor, wrapped in their coverlets. At the 

end of a tedious week the new home 
was reached. One of Aunt Smith's 
brothers [lived in a log house, roofed 
with bark ; with a stone chimney ; 
the other Mr. Bailey had put up 
a good-sized frame house. The brick 
chimney was built, the outside fin- 
ished, and the floors laid, but the 
rooms were not partitioned. There 
was, however, sufficient space. Quilts 
and coverlets were suspended from the 
beams. Uncle Sam's family went to 
housekeeping one side of the chimney, 
while Mr. Bailey's occupied the other 
side. A saw mill was near ; Uncle 
Sam immediately began to cut timber 
and haul it to the mill, and he expect- 
ed to get up a house and barn that 
would be tenantable by warm weather. 
Father had not caught the emigrant 
fever ; he was a home bod}', firmly 
attached to the ancestral acres. "If he 
left Massachusetts he should prefer to 
go South rather than North. Still, 
Vermont was a fine state ; a great grain 
and grazing country." The Baileys had 
raised a large crop of wheat of an extra 
quality. Father bought a quantit}' of 
the grain, and brought it home in a 
board chest which he constructed and 
fastened to his sled for that purpose. 
This was quite a successful speculation, 
as he paid only a dollar per bushel ahd 
it sold readily at home for a dollar and 
a half. It must be remembered that 
the family flour barrel had not then 
come into vogue. Wheat was raised 
upon the farm, or bought and ground 
by the bushel. Bolts had been put into 
most of the mills, but some families 
still used their flour unbolted. Indian 
meal and rye, especially rye, were the 
staples for daily use in most house- 
holds. Baiie}- was also raised and 
ground, but wheat flour was somewhat 


of a luxury ; a housekeeper felt rich 
with a bushel or two on hand, and it 
was made to last a long time. 


On July 19th, 1794, occurred one of 
those catastrophes that send a thrill of 
horror and anguish throughout the com- 
munity. My seventh birth-day came a 
few days previous. Aunt Hannah Lit- 
tle and myself had been for some time 
anticipating the pleasure of spending 
the anniversary with m}~ mother's aunt, 
Mrs. Simeon Chase. This lad}- still 
occupied the paternal homestead. The 
, parish, then an infant one just gather- 
ed, had not, at the settlement of the 
Rev. William Johnson, provided a par- 
sonage. The clergyman purchased sev- 
eral acres near the meeting-house, upon 
which he erected a house and farm 
buildings. The mansion, a square, dou- 
ble house, with a chimney at either end, 
stood a little below the meeting-house, 
on the opposite side of the street, just 
bej'ond the brow of the hill. A narrow 
lawn, shaded by maples, extended in 
front, a picket fence separating it from 
the grassy country road from which a 
gravel walk led up to. the front en- 
trance. A carriage drive ran round 
the end to a side door, and to the barn 
and other buildings in the rear. Mrs. 
Chase 'and another sister, afterwards 
Mrs. Mood}', were unmarried at the 
time of their father's decease. As the 
other sisters had each received a full 
"fixing out," the furniture of the house 
had been given to these two single 
daughters. At his marriage, Master 
Simeon Chase bought the Parsonage, 

the library and other appertenances ; 
consequently the premises at that time 
presented nearly the same aspect they 
had borne during the first pastor's life. 

Madame Johnson's father, Dr. Hum- 
phrey Bradstreet, had furnished his 
daughter's new house in a style not fre- 
quent in those days. The principal 
entrance opened into a spacious hall, 
handsomely furnished in dark wood, 
from which a highly ornamented stair- . 
case led to the story above. The white 
wall was decorated with the portraits of 
Lieut. Governor Dummer and his wife, 
and a view of Harvard College. Under 
the pictures stood a large, massive din- 
ing table. The parlor, a square, pleas- 
ant room, was to the left of the en- 
trance. Its three windows commanded 
a lovely view of the surrounding coun- 
try and the river, bounded by the roll- 
ing hills of its farther shore. This 
room displayed an unusual embellish- 
ment ; the walls were hung with a velvet 
paper, a purple figure on a buif ground. 

Papered walls had not yet become 
common, no paste was used ; four pol- 
ished hard wood convex r slats running 
round the room held the hangings in 
place. Small, slender brass andirons, 
and a tiny brass shovel and tongs 
adorned the tiled fireplace, an antique 
table, its legs curiously carved and or- 
namented, stood between the front win- 
dows ; over it hung a mirror in a black 
and gilt frame ; the chairs were cane 
seated and a strip of cane was inserted 
into the high, carved backs. An arm- 
chair occupied one corner ; opposite 
stood the buffet, lustrous with rich 
silver, brightly painted china and glasses 
of various shapes and graceful device. 
The libraiy, the opposite front room, 
had shelves round the two sides, well 
filled with books, and a study table in 



the centre. Master Chase kept a pri- 
vate school in this apartment part of 
the year. The back sitting-room was 
supplied with more common furniture, 
and a press-bed that turned up in a re- 
cess behind folding doors . The kitchen, 
the other back room, had been furnished 
with every convenience then considered 
requisite for the domestic purposes of a 
large family ; the fireplace was huge, 
even for those days, and the long dres- 
ser shimmered with an array of bright 

Master Chase, a very eccentric per- 
son, was his wife's senior by several 
years, and he was fond of relating how 
he had never dreamed of marr}*ing lit- 
tle Hannah Johnson when, at her fath- 
er's desire, she used to draw a tankard 
of cider for his refreshment upon his 
calls on the clergyman in his college va- 
cations. The pair were childless for 
fifteen years of married life ; then a lit- 
tle girl was born to them. This event 
caused such a sensation, was such a 
wonder throughout the family and the 
vicinity, that the Master declared the 
babe's name should be Myra. Myra, 
therefore, she was christened. Little 
Myra, on the watch for her expected 
guests, met us at the gate ; Aunt Chase, 
a slight, black-eyed woman, bade us 
welcome at the door. After a lunch, 
Myra took us over the premises. The 
Master taught one or the other of the 
district schools in the town during the 
winter, but through the summer he re- 
ceived pupils at home, j'ouths fitting 
themselves in the higher branches of 
learning, for college or mercantile life. 
School over, we went into the library. 
How numerous the books looked. Else- 
where I had never found more than a 
dozen or so in a house, and we were 
much amused with the plates in illus- 

trated copies of Josephus, and Homer's 
Ih'ad. The Master was in the best of 
humor, and made us laugh through din- 
ner. When he chose he could be one 
of the most entertaining of mortals, 
but he was often quite the reverse. His 
family were accustomed to his oddities, 
and his pupils were obliged to bear 

In the afternoon Mr. Parker Chase's 
daughter Sukey, from the main road, 
came in. As Aunt Hannah and I took 
leave, Miss Chase asked me to carry an 
invitation to our neighbor, Nabby Hale, 
to join a party, across the river, huckle- 
berrying the next week. Miss Hale, 
who was on the eve of marriage to Mr. 
Moses Longfellow, of Byfield, resided 
with her grandfather Dole, on a farm 
at the southerly end of Crane-neck hill. 
The young lady was sewing on her 
wedding dress, when I delivered the 
message. She said she should visit her 
stepfather before her marriage, and if 
not too busy would join the excursion- 

On the Saturday afternoon of the fol- 
lowing week, Aunt Sarah and I went 
into the pasture to pick berries. It 
was a hot, sultry day betokening show- 
ers. Wandering on into Bradford 
woods, unheeding the sky, we were 
startled by a terifflc thunder peal ac- 
companied by a violent gust of wind. 
Hastily turning, we saw that the west 
was threateningly black with clouds, 
and though only a few scattering drops 
reached us, in the direction of the main 
road it was raining heavily. The first 
fright overj I seized my basket, in or- 
der to hasten home as fast as possible, 
but Aunt Sarah said there was no cause 
for hurry, the shower would not come 
our way, it would follow the river. 
Without outstripping my companion I 



walked fast up the hill. As I neared 
the stone wall that divided the pasture 
from the house field, to my surprise I 
saw mother come from the front door, 
and run across the newly mown grass 
in the direction of the bars ; I leaped 
them and rushed to meet her. Tears 
were streaming down her cheeks, and 
for a moment her speech failed. Aunt 
Sarah hurried forward to hear the terri- 
ble news, which had been brought by 
Mr. John Peabody, on his way to Mr. 
Dole's. The whole of the benring 
party, with the exception of Mr. Moses 
Chase (Nabby Bale's step-father) , had 
been drowned in the Merrimac, by the 
overturning of the sail-boat during the 
thunder gust, midway the river, as they 
were returning to the Newbury shore. 
Mr. Chase, on seeing the rising cloud, 
had hurried the embarkation of the 
company, never dreaming that their 
safety would be endangered before they 
could cross. His three children, PoUy, 
Rebecca and Joshua, Nabby Hale, 
Mercy Pillsbmy, Sarah and Mehitable 
Brown, and Mr. Edmund Kendrick 
were drowned. Sukey Chase had a 
singular premonition during the morn- 
ing, which, as the time for sailing ap- 
proached, increased to such a degree 
that, under the plea of headache, she 
remained at home. My father and 
Aunt Sarah hastened to Mr. Dole's. 
The eight bodies were soon drawn from 
the water, and the remains of the lovely 
granddaughter were, towards evening, 
borne to the bereaved home. "Words 
are inadequate to depict the scene ! 
The stricken family and youthful lover 
were for a time wholly overcome. It 
was arranged that the seven from the 
main road should be interred from the 
meeting-house on the morrow, where 
Parson Dutch had been engaged to 

officiate ; but, as Mr. and Mrs. Dole 
were aged and infirm, and it would be 
more convenient for the Hales, Long- 
fellows, and other Byfield relatives and 
friends, it was decided that Miss Hale 
should be buried from her grandfath- 
er's house. Father mounted his horse 
and rode to East Haverhill, to procure 
the services of the Rev. Mr. Adams, 
the pastor of the church, for the funeral 
rites. Until a late hour our house was 
filled with a sorrow-stricken throng, 
going and coming from Mr. Dole's. 
The following day father and Aunt Sa- 
rah devoted to the bereaved family, and 
we all attended the funeral in the after- 

The obsequies in the church were sol- 
emnly impressive. The seven coffins 
were placed in the broad aisle, where, 
amid the sobs and moans, Parson Dutch 
his own voice often broken spoke 
words befitting the occasion. Then the 
seven corpses were borne on the shoul- 
ers of their friends, a mournful file, fol- 
lowed by a long procession, an immense 
throng not only our own people, but 
from other towns, to the burial place 
lay the river side. Slowly, with uncov- 
ered heads, in impressive silence, their 
burdens were deposited in the seven 
open graves. Dust was committed to 
dust, with that hope in a blessed im- 
mortality, which is the only source of 
faith, upbearing the anguish of such 
an hour. Lingeringly, with many 
tears, the crowd dispersed, and the 
dead were left on the picturesque hill- 
side, where the western sun would lov- 
ingty linger and the soft breezes play 
over the grassy mounds, while the river 
rippled be}*ond, and the shadows chased 
each other over field, woodland and 
swelling hills , and the smoke curled above 
peaceful homesteads dotting the wide- 



spread landscape. Miss Hale's body 
also rested in a lovely spot ; a small, 
rural graveyard at the foot of Crane- 
neck Hill ; a pleasant, secluded " God's 
Acre," where the song-birds attune 
their sweetest melody, and the violets 
bloom the earliest and grow the larg- 

The Sunday following was most mem- 
orable to all. Dr. Toppan came early in 
the week to sympathize with and con- 
sole his afflicted friends, and former 
parishioners. The meeting-house was 
crowded, and when the long list of fu- 
neral notes, requesting prayers were 
read, there was not a dry eye in the 
assembly. Dr. Toppan preached an 
extremely appropriate and impressive 
sermon. Child though I was, the whole 
scene rises distinctl}' in my memory. 
Mrs. Hendrick, in her widow's hood 
and scarf, with her two little fatherless 
girls, satin the next pew, and the oth- 
er numerous mourners in their sable 
garb heightened the awe and sadness 
of the scene. 


The summer that I attained my 
ninth year aunt Bets}' celebrated her 
nuptials. Preparations therefor pro- 
ceeded for some months, and the skill I 
had acquired in marking and embroid- 
ery called my services into requisition. 

My grandfather's family presented a 
perfect type of an orderly Puritan house- 
hold. A clergyman's daughter, Grand- 
mother Little gave an air of refinement 
and decorum to her small realm, seldom 
seen in a farmer's or mechanic's domi- 

Judith, the fourth daughter, had, two 
years previous, married Mr. Amos Chase, 
whose residence at this time was in Ha- 
verhill. This gentleman descended 
from Aquila Chase, a mariner from 
Cornwall, England, who came first to 
Hampton in 1610, thence to Newbury 
in 1646. He married Ann Wheeler of 
Hampton. This pair had eleven chil- 
dren, five sons and six daughters. From 
these sprung a numerous progeny. A- 
mos, son of Samuel and Sarah (Stuart) 
Chase, was born in the brick house on 
the main road nearly opposite that lead- 
ing to Crane-neck hill, where he resi- 
ded when first married. A short time 
previous to Aunt Betsey's wedding, he 
purchased a farm in Haverhill, about 
half a mile below Haverhill bridge. In 
addition to the cultivation of his land, 
he was largely engaged in the manufac- 
ture of shoes. 

The Chase arms are : 


At my grandfather Little's, three 
daughters, Betsy, Sukey and Hannah, 
and the three sons still remained under 



the paternal roof ; there were also three 
young men, apprentices, learning the 
trade of a shoemaker. Grandsir at 
that time carried on a brisk business, 
as business was reckoned in those days, 
in a shop near the dwelling this, and 
the care of a good sized farm, kept ev- 
ery one bus}-. Family worship and 
breakfast over, the ' ' men folks " went 
to their labor, and grandmam' and the 
girls began the day's routine. The two 
youngest girls assisting alternately week 
by week in the housework and spinning. 
The weaving was usually put out to 
some neighboring woman, though some- 
times an assistant was hired to weave 
at the house for a few weeks. In the 
cold weather, the morning work fin- 
ished, and the dinner put over the fire 
to boil, grandmam', would seat herself 
by the window with her basket, and 
call me to a stool by her side, where I 
industriously stitched through the day, 
now and then recreating with a run to 
the chamber where my aunt, unless the 
weather was very severe, usually spun, 
or to the shop or barn with Uncle Joe, 
my boy uncle, a great rogue, but my 
very best friend and crony. Company 
often came of an afternoon, for though 
my grandmother seldom visited, she 
was "given to hospitality," and the 
neighbors, relatives and town's folks 
fully appreciated and enjo}"ed the at- 
tractions of her house and tea table. 

At dark my work was laid aside. 
Uncle Joe and I occupied the form in 
the chimney corner of an evening, 
cracking nuts, parching corn in the 
ashes with a crooked stick, roasting 
apples and telling stories or riddles, 
or playing fox and geese on a board, 
chalked for the game, with a red kernel 
of com for the fox and yellow for 

At nine o'clock grandsir and the 
young men came. Grandsir would seat 
himself in his arm-chair, before the fire 
to toast his feet, grandmam' lay aside 
her knitting and draw her low one to 
the corner beside our form. The nuts, 
corn and apples were passed round, 
and sometimes a mug of flip was made. 
After all had become wanned and re- 
freshed, the Bible was laid on the 
stand, a fresh candle lighted, and the 
old gentleman reverently read a chap- 
ter, then a lengthy prayer was offered, 
through which we all stood with heads 
bowed devout!}-, though I am sorry to 
say that grandmam's thoughts were 
sometimes called to this mundane 
sphere, by that incorrigible Joe, and 
her low ' ' 'sh " could often be detec- 
ted, as she thwarted some mischief, or 
prevented some prank, played with the 
dire intent of making me laugh. With 
the warmer weather Aunt Betsy trans- 
ferred our work toher chamber, where 
it escaped the espionage of the curious 
eyes and gossiping tongues that dur- 
ing the winter had at times been ex- 
cessively annoying ; but in the long, 
bright June afternoons I used to steal 
down to the front entry ; seated upon 
the sill of the open door, my fingers 
kept time to the murmur of the brook 
or the song of the birds in the willows 
bordering the silvery stream just be- 
yond the gravel path, edged by flowers, 
the perfume of which, mingling with 
that of the lilacs and sweet briar, filled 
the air with grateful odor. Grand- 
mam' took great pleasure in her flow- 
ers. Though sister Xoyes " could not 
see how she found time for sich fiddle- 
de-dees," and brother John's wife pro- 
nounced " sich things all vanity," and 
other wise people thought it would be 
better to raise something useful, grand- 



mam' continued to cultivate her garden 
to the end of her long life. Her 
crocuses, tulips and other spring 
flowers were a rare show ; there were 
a splendid collection of pinks and roses, 
and a great array of autumnal flowers. 
Hollyhocks of every variety, French, 
velvet and double marigolds, asters of 
all shades, double coxcomb, and a bed 
of crimson, purple and yellow amar- 
anths. One of my first recollections 
is sitting on the wide, white door stone, 
watching the many hued four o' clocks 
as their petals unfolded to the after- 
noon sun. Another delight was assis- 
ting grandmam', in the autumn to ar- 
ange in prett}* vases of home construc- 
tion the dried amaranths, which mingled 
with white-everlasting, milk-weed, bit- 
ter-sweet and evergreen, made pretty 
winter bouquets, to decorate the man- 
tles of the parlor and living room ; 
these, with the wreaths of running ever- 
green round the mirror and clock, also 
elicited criticism. ' ' Sich things did very 
well for some folks. If Miss Little had 
to delve and drudge like most women, 
she would' nt want dried posies and 
greens a littering her house, but she 
always had contrived to live lady fled, 
and with that squad of gals, she could 
afford to play quality." These and sim- 
ilar speeches often excited the anger of 
the "squad of gals" but grandmam', 
in her pleasant way would bid them 
"never to heed things beneath one's 
notice." "Recreation was necessary; 
if she chose to amuse herself in 
her garden, so long as no duty was ne- 
glected, it was no one's concern. As 
for use she considered flowers of great 
value. The Almighty had decked the 
whole universe with beauty. Who was 
not made happier and better by pretty 
surroundings ? For her part she con- 

sidered it every woman's duty to make 
her home as agreeable as possible. 
She was sure her good sisters-in-law 
and the other croakers enjoyed a bunch 
of pinks or a rose, as much as any 
one, and her mints and sweet herbs 
were in great demand, especially lav- 
ender, to strew in drawers amongst 

Sunday was the only day on which I 
preferred to be at home. Father was 
somewhat of a latitudinarian, and moth- 
er never prohibited my picture books. 
Of these my town friends and an old 
lame peddler, named Urin who came 
round five or six times a year, kept me 
well supplied. Old Urin was quite a 
character. He would stump in, usually 
near dusk, with a bag and basket, and 
sinking into the nearest chair, declare 
himself ' ' e'en a' most dead, he was so 
lame ! " Then, without stopping to take 
breath, he would reel off, "Tree fell on 
me when I was a boy, killed my broth- 
er and me jest like him, here's books, 
pins, needles, black sewing silk ah 1 col- 
ors, tapes, varses, almanacks and sar- 
mons, thread, fine thread for cambric 
ruffles, here's varses on the pirate that 
was hung on Boston Common, solemn 
varses with a border of coffins atop, 
and Noble's sarmon preached at his 
wife's funeral, the ' lection sarmon when 
the guv'ner took the chair, Jack the Pi- 
per, Whittington's Cat, Pilgrim's Prog- 
ress, Bank of Faith, The History of 
the Devil, and a great many other re- 
ligious books." "We always kept the 
old man over night besides purchasing 
his wares. As I had an eager avidi- 
ty for books, the peddler's advent was 
hailed with delight. 

At grandsir's the Lord's day was 
kept m Sabbatical strictness. Every 
vestige of the week's employment dis- 



appeared at sundown Saturday night, 
no book was permitted save the Bible, 
some pious treatise and the catechism. 
Pleasant da3*s, when meeting was at- 
tended morning and afternoon, the day 
was not so tedious, but stornry ones 
were seeminghy interminable. Then 
that catechism ! Though I was quick 
to learn, this was my one great bug- 
bear. How I used to dread the cate- 
chising Grandsir instituted after supper. 
Sunday evenings, Uncle Joe and I were 
alwaj's falling into disgrace by our dull- 
ness, aand unt Hannah frequently could 
sympathze with us. Then we often un- 
wittingly broke the rules in such a way as 
to receive a reprimand. Never shall I 
forget the shame of one memorable Sun- 
day afternoon. It was very muddy ri- 
ding in the spring, and as it was incon- 
venient to take us along, Aunt Hannah, 
Uncle Joe and myself were left at home. 
We had studied the catechism, read the 
history of Joseph from the Bible, and 
played with the cat and kittens tih 1 we 
were tired. Aunt Hannah went into 
the cellar for apples ; there she found 
some rotten warden pears which she 
brought above and placed in the sink. 
Uncle Joe took his jack-knife and 
scraped out the pulp from one. "Look 
here," he cried, "see my pail, look at 
my pail!" "It needs a bail," Aunt 
Hannah returned, as she brought some 
strong, blue 3 T arn and proceeded to tie 
it in. Joe scraped another, Aunt Han- 
nah tied in a second bail. Knowing I 
ought not to pla}', I only looked on, an 
interested spectator. The spring sun 
was sliming brightly in at the open back 
door, the well curb was near with a 
trough for watering the horses and cat- 
tle. Joe took his pails out to the plat- 
form, Aunt Hannah and I followed. 
We were so intent seeing the little boy 

fill his novel pails, that we forgot to 
watch for the close of services as we had 
intended, and were all caught in the 
awful crime of playing on "Sabba' 
day." Such a chastisement as we re- 
ceived ! Thereafter I never staid over 
Sunda}^ at grandsir's if it could be 
otherwise, and when I did stay, for years 
I scarcely dared to breathe. 

The wedding had been appointed for 
the last of June. Aunt Sarah, and a fa- 
mous cook, lent her assistance in ba- 
king the cake. Mother cut the bridal 
dress, a light slate silk gown and skirt, 
the gown was festooned at the bottom, 
the neck and the sleeves trimmed with 
lace. The bridal hat, a French beaver 
to match, was ornamented with two 
long, white ostrich plumes. Aunt Su- 
key and Aunt Hannah had new white 
muslins, cut square in the neck, and short 
sleeves ; the breadths run the whole 
length, plaited at the back, and con- 
fined at the waist by a ribbon sash. 
Grandmam's best silk, a blue and red 
changeable, was newly trimmed, a tas- 
ty muslin cap constructed, and her bri- 
dal lawn half-handkerchief, richly bor- 
dered with broad, thread lace, which 
never saw the light excepting on high, 
gala occasions, and sacrament Sundays, 
was carefully done up. 

The important day arrived. The 
house was swept and garnished, the 
parlor decorated with white and dam- 
ask roses. I wore a white muslin, and 
a blue sash, like Aunt Hannah's . Moth- 
er looked beautifully in a white petti- 
coat and brown silk over dress ; Aunt 
Chase wore her bridal silk, a reddish 
brown ; Uncle Bill and his affianced, 
Miss jSarah Bailey, were groomsman 
and bridesmaid, Miss Bailey, a very 
handsome girl, looked lovely in a peach 
silk. As we were without a minister, 



the Rev. True Kimball from the lower 
parish, performed the ceremony. The 
wine and cake passed, a merry time 
was enjoyed. 

The Bartletts, with whom the Em- 
erys, Johnsons and Littles have inter- 
married, are of a family both "Ancient 
and Honorable." Adam do Bartelot, 
a Norman knight, accompanied Wil- 
liam the Conqueror to England. After 
the conquest William granted him a 
large landed estate in Stopham, Sussex 
Co. Sir Adam de Bartelot died in 
1100. He was the progenitor of the 
Newbury Bartletts. The original grant 
made by William the Conqueror, with 
large additions, is still retained by the 
Bartelots of Stopham. The present 
representative of the family is Sir Wal- 
ter Bartelot, Baronet, and member of 
parliament. John and Richard Bar- 
tlett, who came to Newbuiy in the year 
1634, were of the Stopham family, be- 
ing sons of Edmund Bartelot, third 
son of William, the then heir to the es- 
tate. Another brother, Ensign Thom- 
as Bartlett, accompanied John and 
Richard to America ; he settled in Wa- 
tertown. Josiah Bartlett purchased a 
farm in the "West Precinct" Newbury, 
his son, Josiah, married Prudence Ord- 
way, and succeeded v his father on the 
estate, and, for those days, he carried 
on a very extensive shoe trade, always 
employing a half dozen or more ap- 
prentices. These youth, for j-ears, bore 
the designation of " Bartlett V bo} r s, 
and a merry set they usually were, up 
to all kinds of pranks ; if any tricks 
were played, all eyes were instantly 
turned on "Bartlett's boys." The 
children of Josiah aud Prudence Bart- 
lett were Josiah, Stephen, Betsey, 
Samuel, William, John Emery, Pru- 
dence, Polly, and Theodore who died 

in infancy. The arms of the Bartlett 
familv are : 




This without a crest was the family 
arms for some centuries. Near the 
close of the fifteenth century one of the 
present crests, a castle, was granted to 
Sir John Bartelot, who, in command of 
the Sussex troops, captured the castle 
of Fontenoy, in France. In the six- 
teenth century a swan was added to the 
crest, to commemorate the right of 
the family to keep swans on the river 
Arun, a right granted by William the 
Conqueror. These were confirmed 
under the seal of William Segar, Gar- 
ter King of Arms, October 27, 1616, 
14th year of King James, motto "Ma- 
ture." The bridegroom, Stephen Bar- 
tlett, had been in business in Newbury- 
port nearly two years. The year pre- 
vious Mr. John Peabody had moved 
thither, with Mr. Luther Waterman, 
the two gentlemen had formed a part- 
nership, known as the firm of "Pea- 
body, Waterman & Co." Their place 
of business was a store on the corner 
of State street and Market Square, 
running back to Inn street. The front 
store on State street was devoted to dry 



goods, the back, entrance on Inn street, 
had a full supply of groceries, and 
boots and shoes, the latter being manu- 
factured in the chambers. Stephen 
Bartlett had purchased the house on 
State, lower corner of Temple street, 
and the wedded pair went immediately 
to housekeeping. As was natural the 
bride found herself intolerably lonesome 
in her new home, and a pressing invita- 
tation came, that I should pay her a 
visit. Mother packed my things in her 
little red, wooden trunk, and I accom- 
panied father the next market day. 

I vividly remember the ride down 
High street, and father's reining in his 
steed, that I might gaze at the deer in 
the park at Mt. Rural, and at Dexter' s 
images. Only a beginning of the show 
had then been made, Washington, Ad- 
ams and the Goddess of Liberty a- 
dorned the front entrance, and the Li- 
on and Lamb reclined on either side. 

We found Mrs. Bartlett fully estab- 
lished, everything in spick and span 
freshness. The parlor, now the site of 
Mr. Philip H. Blumpey's store, was a 
large, pleasant room, the two front win- 
dows overlooking State, the two end, 
Temple street. It was handsomely fur- 
nished, for that period, with a mahoga- 
ny desk and book-case, two mahognay 
card tables, and alight-stand to match ; 
a large mirror occupied the front pier, 
two pictures, a marine view, and a 
landscape ornamented the wall. There 
were half a dozen dark green, wooden 
chairs, and two rockers to match. A 
Franklin stove had been set in the fire- 
place, in which glittered a highly pol- 
ished brass fire-set. There was no car- 
pet, floors had not then become gener- 
ally covered, and, if carpeted in the 
winter, they were usually bare in sum- 
mer, carpets being considered hot and 

dusty. The best chamber was elegant 
with gay patch hangings to the high 
square post bedstead, and curtains of 
the same draped the windows. A toi- 
let table tastily covered with white mus- 
lin, and ornamented b}" blue ribbon 
bows, stood between the front windows. 
The case of drawers was handsomely 
carved, the chairs matched those below, 
and there was a novelty, the first wash- 
stand I ever saw, a pretty triangular 
one of mahogany, a light graceful pat- 
tern to fit into a corner of a room. The 
other chambers, the kitchen, wash 
room, etc., were in perfect order, and 
supplied with every convenience. Sev- 
eral newly invented improvements for 
housekeeping were displayed, amongst 
which was a tin rooster. Heretofore 
our meat and poultry had been baked 
in the brick oven, or roasted on a spit, 
resting on brackets, fastened for that 
purpose to the high, iron andirons, 
common to every kitchen. Sometimes 
a turkey or goose was depended before 
the fire by a strong string hitched to a 
nail in the ceiling. At the "Wolfe 
tavern," and at the residences of some 
of the wealthier citizens, a jack turned 
by clock work had been placed in the 
wide fire-place of the spacious kitchen. 
This new "tin kitchen," Aunt Betsey 
displayed as a rare implement of great 
value to the culinary art. 

After dinner a visit to my aunt Pea- 
body was proposed. I hesitated, and 
informed my aunt that mother had di- 
rected that I should not go anywhere 
until she had procured me a new bon- 
net. My aunt laughed, and replied, 
that she "thought sister Prudy did not 
expect to have town style like her sis- 
ters'. Do not look so sober, little 
sweet, I knew head-gear was needed, 
and here it is," she added, taking from 



a closet a white muslin Quaker-shaped 
bonnet trimmed with green. Of course 
I was delighted, and my happiness was 
enhanced by the information that it 
was just like my cousin Sophronia's, 
and hers, of course, was in the tip-top 
of fashion. 

Uncle Peabody had bought a house 
on Middle street. It was smaller and 
less pleasant than my aunt Bartlett's, 
but the furniture was similar. The 
curtains were white with netted fringe, 
and the parlor table was decorated 
with an elegant gilt China tea set in a 
red. and gilt tray. Aunt Betsey wished 
to embroider cushions for her rockers. 
Miss Betty Bradstreet was celebrated 
for designing patterns for such work. 
Aunt Peabody, learning our intention 
of calling upon her, summoned So- 
phronia from school, and with her little 
daughter accompanied us. 

Humphrey Bradstreet, an elder 
brother, or kinsman, of Gov. Simon 
Bi'adstreet, came from Ipswich, Eng- 
land, to Ipswich, America, in the 
"Elizabeth," in 1634, aged 40, with 
his wife Bridget, aged 30, and chil- 
dren Hannah, aged 9, John, 3, Mar- 
tha, 2, and Mary, 1 ; had born here 
Moses, Sarah and Rebecca ; was made 
freeman May 6th, 1635 ; representa- 
tive to General Court in 1635 ; died in 

Humphrey, Rowle}", physician, son 
of Moses, removed to Newbury ; there, 
by wife Sarah, had Dorothy, born Dec. 
19th, 1692 ; Joshua, Feb. 24th, 1695 ; 
Sarah, Jan. 16th, 1697; Humphrey, 
1700, died 3"oung ; Daniel, Feb. 13th, 
1702 ; Moses, Feb. 17th, 1707 ; and Bet- 
ty, May 16th, 1713. Dr. Bradstreet 
died May 1 1 th , 1717. His widow , June 

9th, 1719, married Edward Sargent. 
Arms, Bradstreet : 





This is the ancient coat. The arms on 
the seal of Gov. Simeon Bradstreet, 
born atKobling, county Lincoln, 1703, 
where his father Simeon was the minis- 
ter are : 


Anne Dudley Bradstreet, Gov. Brad- 
street's first wife, was the first "Ameri- 
can female Poet," st} r led the tenth muse. 
Dr. Humphrey Bradstreet built the 
second house erected at the water side. 
It is on Water, upper corner of Lime 
street, at present a store. His young- 
est daughter, Betty, married the Rev. 
William Johnson, and his youngest 
son, Moses, married, and inherited the 
paternal mansion. Four out of five of 
Mr. Moses Bradstreet's children, died 
within one week from the terrible 
throat distemper which, in the winter of 
1735, despoiled so many households in 
Massachusetts and New Hampshire. 
Betty, her aunt Johnson's namesake, 



alone recovered ; but vestiges of the 
fell disease were carried through a long 
life in impaired beauty and a weakened 
constitution. Mr. Bradstreet died in 
a few j-ears, and Mrs. Bradstreet, up- 
on the death of her children, was 
thrown into an illness which weakened 
her mind ; though she lived until Miss 
Betty was well advanced in age, she 
oould never be brought to regard her 
daughter as other than a little girl. 
I have been told how touching it was 
to see the mother leading the grown 
woman up the aisle of the meeting- 
house as if she was still a child. Miss 
Bradstreet had numerous suitors, but 
till her mother's death her life was de- 
voted to her ; afterwards she declared 
herself too old for matrimony, and 
in compan}- with her faithful serv- 
ing maiden, Hannah Brown, she 
lived a happy, useful and contented 
life, in the ancestral mansion, an open 
house to her relatives and friends, while 
the}* in turn were often enlivened by a 
visit from the spinster cousin, whose 
advent was the signal for a genuine 
festival throughout the household and 
neighborhood. To children in particu- 
lar Miss Betty constituted herself a sort 
of patron saint, receiving in return a 
love and devotion never to be forgotten. 
The Bradstreet mansion had been a pre- 
tentious house at the period of its erec- 
tion, and with its extensive and well 
kept garden was then a model of neat- 
ness and elegance^ The windows com- 
manded as exquisite a view as can be 
found. The beautiful Merrimac broad- 
ening to its mouth, Plum Island river 
pouring in its tributary waters on the 
right, opposite the picturesque Salis- 
bury shore, terminating in its long, san- 
dy point, the narrow outlet at the bar 
separating it from the twin point at 

Plum Island, whose length of sands, 
marshes and bushy knolls extended in- 
to the distance. The two light-houses 
on its northern extremity gleamed 
in the afternoon sun, which eradiated 
the lofty warehouses on the wharves, 
the wherries, fishing smacks and West 
India schooners, in the river, and the 
sails of vessels near and more remote, 
dotting the waves of Massachusetts 
Ba}-, whose blue waters stretched afar, 
its hues mingling with those of the ho- 

Miss Betty, a tall, prim, rather plain 
woman of sixty, received us with great 
cordialit}*. Her parlor, rich in antique 
furnishings, if it could be restored, 
would now become a perfect bijou for 
an antiquarian. Dark, highly polished 
tables with claw feet, and high backed, 
elaborately carved chairs to match ; a 
tall, handsomely ornamented clock 
ticked in one corner ; an elegantly em- 
broidered fire-screen, with mahogany 
frame, that could be raised or lowered 
at pleasure, stood opposite. A large 
mahogany -framed mirror occupied the 
space between the front windows ; over 
the mantel, which was decorated witli 
tall brass candlesticks, hung the por- 
trait of Dr. Humphrey Bradstreet, in 
a red coat, buff vest, white wig, ruf- 
fled shirt, and delicate ruffles at the 
wrist, the right hand grasping a lancet. 
-The walls were further ornamented by 
paintings and embroidered pictures, 
specimens of the taste and skill of the 
mistress of the house. The screen, 
the wrought seats of the chairs, and 
various other knick-knacks scattered 
about the room, were also the handi- 
work of the ingenious and industrious 

Our hostess invited us into the gar- 
den, which was gay with a profusion of 



old-fashioned flowers, besides fruit and 
vegetables. Each having been sup- 
plied with a "bunch of posies," we 
took our leave. A pressing invitation 
"to stay to tea," had been givhn, but 
Uncle Bartlett was to join his wife and 
myself at Uncle Peabody's, so the visit 
was postponed until the cushion covers 
were drawn. 

As we returned, my aunts spoke of 
the terrible distemper, that brought 
such sorrow to the Bradstreet mansion, 
as well as to so many other New Eng- 
land homes. Aunt Peabody inauired 
' ' if Aunt Bartlett had ever heard of 
the warning given to Mrs. Stephen 
Jaques prior to her grand-children's de- 
cease?" Aunt Betse} r answered in the 
negative, and inquired what it was. 
"Mrs. Jaques went to a chamber, the 
door of which was locked, to get some 
candles that were in a bushel measure 
under the bed. She took out the can- 
dles, laid them on the bed, and pushed 
the measure back ; as she lifted the quilt, 
she saw a child's hand and an arm cov- 
ered witha striped sleeve. She pulled 
down the bed clothes, and searched the 
chamber, but no child was there. In a 
few days her son's children were taken 
with the throat distemper. OnThursday , 
just a fortnight from the time she saw the 
apparition, Stephen's son, Henry, died ; 
the next Thursday, Ebenezer died, and 
the next Monday his oldest son Stephen, 
died. "I do not know what to think 
of such things," Aunt Betsey thought- 
fully returned, "you often hear of oc- 
currences that are termed supernatural 
in times of sickness and distress." I 
did not know what to think of the sto- 
ry, either. On whispering an inquiry 
to my cousin, she exclaimed, "Ugh! 
Don't talk of it, I beg ! I shall lie a- 
wake all night. " I said no more, but 

the story haunted my imagination. As 
soon as I shut my eyes of a night, that 
tiny hand and striped sleeve would pre- 
sent itself, and every time I lifted a 
quilt it protruded from beneath. I can- 
not say that I was afraid, but it was a 
long while ere I lost the vision. 

Aunt Peabody told Sophronia she 
and I might go to the store, and hurry 
her father and uncle home. I had nev- 
er visited an establishment of the kind, 
and I doubt, now, if even Stewart's would 
appear more spacious and elegant. So- 
phronia went behind the counter and 
measuring off two yards of pink satin 
ribbon, presented me with half of it ; 
I demurred as to the propriety of 
this proceeding. Mr. Waterman, 
who was in the front store, told 
me to take the ribbon, but I was not 
satisfied until I had informed my uncle 
Peabocby, whom I found in the back 
store. He said "Yes, Fronie and I 
were welcome to the ribbon ; I am glad 
to see my little girl generous to her 
friends." After regaling us on raisins, 
he led the way back to the front divi- 
sion, and taking down a box of spangled 
gauze fans, he bade us each choose one. 
Sophronia took a buff ornamented in 
silver. I chose blue and gold. Uncle 
Bartlett came from the shoe manufac- 
tory, and invited us up stairs, where he 
fitted both with a pair of purple kid 
slippers. Very happy and grateful, we 
accompanied the gentlemen home to 
tea. How vividly they rise in remem- 
brance. Gen. Peabody, tall, preposses- 
sing, with a noble figure and courtly 
bearing, his pleasant face irradiated by 
smiles as he familiarly chatted with 
"his little girl." Col. Bartlett of a 
slighter mould, lithe and active, taci- 
turn and grave, excepting on occasions, 
when the serious black eye would twin- 



kle, as the thin, firmly cut lips gave ut- 
terance to some witticism, or droll- 
ery, in a mirth-evoking manner wholly 
his own. 

After supper, Capt. Moses Brown, 
whose premises adjoined my uncle's, 
came in to invite the family to visit the 
ship of war Merrimac, a vessel the 
town had built and presented to the 
general government. It had been con- 
structed in an incredibly short period 
of time, and was the great focus of at- 
traction to the people of that vicinity. 
Capt. Brown was to command the 
ship, which, then laj r , nearly ready for 
sea, just back of what is now the City 
railroad depot. 

As there was quite a party of ladies 
and gentlemen, Aunt Peabody thought 
Sophronia and I had better go another 
time. My cousin went to the next 
house, and returned accompanied by 
a boy and girl, whom she introduced as 
my cousins, John and Lydia Kettell. 
We seated ourselves upon the front 
door step for a while, then my cousin 
proposed a run over to the meeting- 
house. It was a warm, moonlight eve- 
ning ; what is now Market square was 
soon reached. A large, unpainted 
building, its heaven-pointing spire, 
white in the moonbeams rose before us. 
This, the third Church of Newbury and 
the first of Xewlmryport, stood where 
the city pump is now located. Having 
run about the meeting-house for awhile, 
we mounted the steps, and sat down to 
enjoy the evening and the moonlight, 
talking the meanwhile as children talk. 

The next day Uncle PeabocVv took 
us to see the ship, and Maiy Smith, a 
connexion of my uncle's, who resided 
in his family, invited us to accompany 
her, in the afternoon, to visit a famous 
new house then in process of erection 

on the ridge on High street. Its build- 
er was a Major Shaw. This gentleman 
failed, and moved from the place ere 
the edifice was completed. It was pur- 
chased and finished, after a while, b}" 
Captain Elias Hunt. The following 
morning I went to school with my 
cousin. She attended a private school 
kept by "Mann Emerson," a very good, 
stout old lad}-, who taught reading, 
spelling, the catechism and plain sew- 
ing to a flock of the neighboring little 
ones. In the afternoon Aunt Bartlett 
took me to call on my father's uncle, 
Mr. Tlichard Smith, and at the resi- 
dences of the two brothers of my grand- 
mother Little, Mr. Daniel and Mr. Brad- 
street Johnson ; she also called on her 
cousins, Coombs and Wheelwright. On 
Saturday I returned home, having en- 
joyed a most pleasant week. Every- 
where I had been welcomed and petted, 
and I took back an enlargement of 
ideas, that greatly edified and amused 
the family, with an enhancement of im- 
portance in the eyes of my country 
mati-.s. which produced a deference due 
to one cognizant of town elegance and 

A short time after this visit the yel- 
low fever, brought from the West In- 
dies, broke out in Xewburyport. From 
the first few cases it rapidly grew to an 
appalling epidemic ; over fort}' persons 
died from the disease, amongst them, 
Doctor Swett, one of the first physi- 
cians. Fear and consternation seized 
the population. Few from abroad ven- 
tured into the place, which, as the fever 
increased, became completely panic- 
stricken. Many hurried away ; others 
shut themselves in their houses. Busi- 
ness and pleasure were alike suspend- 
ed. A pall seemed stretched over the 
summer sk}-, and death appeared borne 



upon its soft breezes. Ropes were 
drawn across Water and other streets, 
barring off' the infected district. It 
was difficult to obtain attendants for 
the sick ; and the dead, without funeral 
rites, in tarred sheets and pine coffins, 
were, at midnight, carried to the grave 
in a rude vehicle constructed for the 
purpose of rough boards. Thus, un- 
shrined, unknelled, in all haste, the 
corpse was covered from sight, and a 
new mound, that for a time every 
one would shun, rose on the old bury- 
ing hill. 

When the fever lirst appeared, before 
its presence was really known, ni}' un- 
cle Peabocty's family received a fright, 
which happily brought no evil conse- 
quences. The eldest daughter, when 
returning from school, was informed, 
by a little acquaintance, that a dead 
man lay in the house they were passing. 
"Come in and look at him, " she said 
to Sophronia, "he looks real funny. 
He is just as yellow as saffron." The 
corpse was laid out ready for burial, in 
one of the front rooms. The front 
door was open, and people were passing 
in and out. Childlike, Fronie peeped 
in, then tiptoed forward. Sure enough, 
the dead man's face was of a deep yel- 
low. At dinner she mentioned the in- 
cident, inquiring what could have made 
the corpse so yellow. Her mother 
could not imagine, but my uncle, who 
had heard a rumor that there had been 
cases of yellow fever in the place, too 
truly divined the matter. Even- pre- 
caution was instantly taken ; Fronie 
was kept from school, but none of our 
relatives took the fever. Aunt Bartlett 
was suddenly and violently seized with 
a bilious attack, to which she was sub- 
ject. The family were alarmed, and 
Grandmother Little was summoned, 

3iit she was quickly relieved. The 
neighborhood was greatly frightened, 
and the morning after grandmam's ar- 
rival ,what was her horror, as she drew 
aside the curtain in the early dawn, to 
descry the dread dead-cart drawn up 
before the back door, awaiting what 
was supposed to be another victim to 
the pestilence. She lost no time in 
sending it away, but it was hours be- 
fore she recovered from the shock the 
fell sight had given, and I never heard 
her recount the incident without a shud- 
der. Frost subdued the plague. The 
fever entirely vanished, and the "Port" 
gradually resumed its wonted life and 


The following spring I was prostrat- 
ed by an illness, the vestiges of which 
have remained through a long life. My 
head began to ache, Fridaj', in school. 
Master Stephen Longfellow was the 
teacher. Contrary to my inclination 
he sent me home. Mother administered 
camphor, I retired earl}', and the next 
morning thought myself well enough to 
attend school. I loved study, and it 
was a disappointment to lose a session. 
Though not feeling strong, I managed 
to go through the morning creditably. 
It was the latter part of March ; the 
road was sloppy, the walking tiresome. 
Just as I reached the lane leading to 
the house, I was seized with a terrible 
pain in my right knee. Unable to walk 
another step, I sank upon a stone by 
the roadside. My little brother, who 
was my companion, much frightened, 
ran for mother ; she and Aunt Sarah 



bore me home. Mother bathed the 
limb, and I was kept warm and dosed 
for a cold. The next morning, I was 
so comfortable, it was not deemed 
necessary that mother should remain 
from meeting, and I was left with my 
brother. A short tune after the others 
had gone, Jim ran in, with the informa- 
tion that the pigs were out of the pen. 
"They are rooting all over the garden, 
SaUie. What shall I do? I can't get 
them back into the pen alone. The}- 
will spoil the garden ; they have rooted 
up one bunch of daffies a'tfeady." Look- 
ing from the window, I saw that the 
little boy was right. The porkers were 
making sad havoc. I hesitated about 
venturing forth, but at length decided 
to go. Putting on my thick boots and 
wrapping myself up, we sallied forth, 
and, after a while, managed to get the 
obstinate animals penned. I was much 
exhausted by the effort, and when the 
family came back the}" found me in a 
raging fever, stiff, and in pain. Doctor 
Poore was brought. The worthy doc- 
tor examined the case, took a long 
pinch of snuff, and then pronounced it 
rheumatic fever. Blisters were applied, 
and the usual remedies given, but I suf- 
fered fearfully. It was three or four 
weeks ere I could move, and as many 
more before I could sit up or step. 
Months passed, and still I remained an 
invalid. Autumn brought somewhat 
of the old vigor, but I was obliged to 
be very careful, and could bear no fa- 
tigue nor exposure for a long time. 
Relatives and friends were most kind 
in their ministration during this sick- 
ness, and at my convalescence even- 
means was used for solace and amuse- 
ment. It was a perfect boon to be able 
to read and sew. Pilgrim's Progress 
and The Arabian Nights were abso- 

devoured. Opportunely, Miss 
Betty Bradstreet paid one of her much 
prized visits. She devised many sourc- 
es of relaxation from the dullness of a 
sick-room. I still have an embroidered 
pocket, the pattern of which she de- 
signed and drew. 

Mother was always hurried, and, as 
I grew stronger, I felt it a duty to as- 
sist her ; but after I had sewed nry 
seam or knit my stint, I would steal up 
to Aunt Sarah's chamber, to read, or 
work upon the border of a skirt which 
Aunt Sarah, who had a universal gen- 
ius, had drawn : a lovely vine of roses 
and leaves. I feared mother would 
consider this too much of a tax upon 
1113- health, so the work was carried on 
surreptitiously for several weeks. At 
length it was completed and exhibited 
in triumph. The flower garden be- 
came a source of gratification, and as 
soon as possible I limped over to our 
next neighbor's. Mrs. Thurrill was my 
mother's aunt, my grandfather Little's 
sister, but her youngest son was only 
one year my elder ; from infancy we 
were playmates. My little brother 
used to run, in shouting, " Here's Bill 
Thuddle, Sallie ; Bill Thuddle has 
come to help you over to his house." 
Mother would put on nay things, and 
with Bill's and Jim's assistance I would 
manage to cross the foot-path through 
the mowing lot, and climb the stile in 
the stone wall that divided the two 
farms. Aunt Thurrill was always " so 
glad to see her leetlc gal ; she was get- 
ting smart, yes indeed real spry !" 
Then the company loaf of pound cake 
would be cut and a glass of metheglin 
presented. Though- she would tell the 
boys to go to the cupboard and get 
something to eat, that doughnuts and 
apple pie, and sweetened cider and wa- 



ter were good enough for hearty boys, 
the urchins never failed to receive a bit 
of cake and a sip of the honey wine. 
After I had rested I would crawl up to 
the spinning room to gossip awhile 
with Jenny Wheeler. Aunt kept a 
hired girl through the year. In the 
summer she helped in the daily and 
housework, but her chief employment 
was spinning. 

Uncle Thurrill kept a large flock of 
sheep. In the winter he fatted weth- 
ers, which he slaughtered and market- 
ed ; the fleeces the maid spun into 
yarn which the old gentleman (he was 
a weaver by trade) wove into cloth, 
which met with a ready sale. After a 
hard day's w r ork out of doors, it was no 
infrequent thing to hear his loom till 
twelve or one o'clock at night. lie 
was also abstemious in food, rarely 
eating meat. There was usually a loaf 
of brown bread, a cut cheese and a 
pan of milk in the chimney corner ; 
these were his staple viands. Still he 
w T as a health}-, strong man, never own- 
ing to fatigue. Besides the sheep, he 
butchered and sold a large number of 
swine. The first families at the "Port" 
regularly sought aunt's lard and sausa- 
ges ; and uncle's pork was in great de- 
mand, lie was also a great orchard- 
ist. The best varieties of apple, such 
as the "Baldwin" and "Russet," 
were then just becoming known. The 
"Baldwin" in that region was then 
called the "Hooper," from its having 
been introduced by Squire Stephen 
Hooper, the owner of an elegant coun- 
try seat on the main road. My father 
also took great pains to procure the 
best fruit for his thrifty, young orchard. 
I have spent many hours helping him 

Amongst our near neighbors was a 

somewhat unique family. Their name 
was Dole and the}- lived at the foot of 
the hill. There were three brothers 
and four sisters, all unmarried, and, as 
is often the case with single people, all 
seven were always addressed by the 
affectionate appellation of uncle and 
aunt. Uncle Amos and David tilled 
the paternal acres ; Uncle Moses, a 
blacksmith, carried on his trade in a 
shop by the roadside, opposite the 
dwelling. He boarded with his broth- 
ers, paying them the enormous price 
of one dollar per week. Aunts Jemi- 
ma, Eunice and Judy attended to the 
house and dairy, receiving their living, 
as in their parents' life-time. Aunt 
Susy, an invalid, was cared for and 
petted by all. This family, especially 
Aunt Judy, had been unusually kind 
during my illness, and the}- were solic- 
itous that I should take tea with them. 
As soon as I was able to walk so far, 
Aunt Sarah took me down. The house, 
large and commodious, stood a little 
back from and end to road ; a path led 
up to a door which opened directly into 
the kitchen or living room. The front 
commanded a pleasant view of Dole's 
pond, and a wide stretch of meadow 
and forest, the Clark homestead, 
peeping through the woods, being the 
only house in sight. We were received 
with great cordiality, and seated in the 
large, cool room to rest. This apart- 
ment had the usual huge fire-place, 
long dressers, heavy table and flag- 
bottomed chairs. After awhile we were 
invited into Aunt Susy's room at the 
back of the house. The invalid was 
scaled in a chair covered by a coverlet, 
and the room was hot and oppressive. 
I was glad to accompany aunt Judy 
when she went out to begin prepara- 
tions for tea, which were a source ol 


great entertainment. The good woman 
moulded a pan of short cake, which 
she rolled out and placed on six pewter 
plates ; placing the long iron oven shov- 
el across the andirons, the six plates 
were deposited before the fire. I dis- 
tinctly recollect the interest I felt in 
watching the bannocks ; seeing Aunt 
Judy turn them, and, when done, split 
and butter them. They were very light 
and nice, and eaten with stewed straw- 
berries they tasted deliciously. The 
three uncles came in to tea ; uncle 
said a length}- grace, then we all did 
justice to the viands. I greatly enjoy- 
ed my visit, and on my return made 
the household laugh heartily with the 
description of aunt Judy's six Johnny 

That summer our neighbors, the 
Pillsburys, put up a new house. It was 
raised in June. This brought a festi- 
val. A sumptuous entertainment was 
provided. Aunt Sarah lent her assist- 
ance, and the whole neighborhood were 
on the qui vive for several days. On 
the afternoon appointed most of the 
parish, and visitors from the vicinity, 
thronged to the place. The stout tim- 
bers of the sturdy roof were reared 
with the usual ceremonies, christened 
with prime Santa Cruz, then the re- 
freshments were spread. Jollity and 
sport sped the hours till sun-down, 
when the crowd dispersed. Notwith- 
standing every precaution I took cold, 
and the next morning could not walk 
one step. Great was my anguish, but 
nursing and care soon brought the use 
of my limbs. When I could walk I 
was invited to spend the day at great- 
uncle John Little's. His farm la}' be- 
low, a little farther down the hill. The 
house, which commanded a pleasant 
view, stood back from the road, a 

thrifty orchard extending in front. 
The two sons and the only daughter 
had been married several years, and 
the family consisted of only uncle, 
aunt and a hired man. I always en- 
joyed a visit to this quiet domicile. 
After dinner Ruth laughingly said, 
" seeing she had distinguished company 
her weaving should be set aside." Put- 
ting on her brightly flowered chintz 
she took her knitting and called me to 
join her in the cosy back parlor. We 
had scarcely become seated when her 
grandson, David Emery, and his step- 
brother, Jeremiah Colman, galloped up 
the lane on two mettled studs. Spring- 
ing from the saddle the two youth, lads 
of twelve and fifteen, entered with the 
information that their father, mother 
and younger brother were just behind. 

Betty Little, at the age of nineteen, 
had married David Emery. This 
young man, with his brother Ephraim, 
left orphans when mere boys, were 
heirs to a considerable property. They 
were still young when the Revolution- 
ary war commenced. At the return of 
the "six months men," called out after 
the battle of Bunker Hill, another sum- 
mons for troops came. The militia 
were drawn up on the training field ; a 
draft was about to be made, when out 
stepped young David Emery and vol- 
unteered his services. His example 
was instantly followed, and the quota 
was obtained without a draft. His 
older brother, Ephraim, fired with mili- 
tary ardor, also entered the army, in 
the capacity of fifer, returning, at the 
disbanding of the officers at the end of 
the war, with a captain's commission. 
He afterwards reentered the army with 
the rank of major, and died at an ad- 
vanced age, in the enjoyment of a lib- 
eral pension. He was one of the found- 



ers of the Society of Cincinnati. His 
commissions from the records of that 
Society are : ensign in Wiggles worth's, 
afterwards C. Smith's, thirteenth regi- 
ment in 1777 ; and served in Sullivan's 
R. I. company in 1779, commanding 
lieutenant and pajTnaster, April 10th, 
1779 ; in Tapper's sixth regiment in. 

David was with the army till after the 
battle of Brooklyn. His time of ser- 
vice having expired, he returned home. 
His health, which had never been 
good, had become much impaired, and 
it was not deemed prudent that he 
should again assume the life of a sol- 
dier. His marriage with Betty Little 
soon followed, but consumption had 
marked him for a victim. Ere a year 
had sped, and two months prior to the 
birth of his son, he passed away, Octo- 
ber 21st, 1785, at the early age of twen- 
ty-two. Though short, as we count 
time, his life was long, in gallant acts 
and noble deeds. Few, even of those 
whose years number the allotted three 
score and ten, could give a better rec- 
ord, and his name has been handed 
down through the succeeding genera- 
tions in affectionate remembrance. 

Two years after her husband's death 
the widow Emery contracted a second 
marriage, with Mr. Moses Colman, of 
Byfield. Mr. Colmau, a widower with 
one little boy five years old, at the time 
of his second marriage, owned and re- 
sided on a farm, delightfully located 
near Dummer Academy. He also car- 
ried on a large butchering business. 
For years the market at the Port was 
largely supplied from his slaughter- 
house. The 3~ear after this second 
marriage a third son, Daniel Colman, 
was born. 

David Emery had passed much of his 
childhood at his grandmother Little's. 
I had known him from infancy. His 
mother and mine, as girls, had been es- 
pecially intimate cousins. Her little 
son had been my playmate at home and 
companion at school. We had often 
sat upon the same form and read from 
the same book. Our greeting was that 
of close friends ; but the fifteen-year- 
old Jerry inspired me with much awe. 
David took down the old king's-arm 
from the brackets where it hung, over 
the kitchen fireplace, and, getting the 
powder horn and shot bag, told his 
grandmother that he was "going into 
the pasture to shoot that woodchuck 
that was plaguing grandsir ; when 
Daniel conies send him along." Call- 
ing to Jeriy, who had been stabling 
the horses, the two went whistling mer- 
rily over the hill. The chaise soon ap- 
peared, turning up the lane, and Mr. 
and Mrs. Colman, Daniel seated be- 
tween them, drove to the door. Mrs. 
Colman came in, Daniel ran after his 
brothers, and Mr. Colman, turning his 
horse, after a moment's chat with Aunt 
Little, drove awa} r . He was one of the 
overseers of the poor, and had business 
to transact in our part of the town. 

Mrs. Colman desired to call at my 
grandmother Little's, and I accompa- 
nied her. After Mr. Colman's return, 
David came to take us back in the 
chaise. He had killed the woodchuck, 
and was in high spirits. We found the 
other boys jubilant over the afternoon's 
work. They had assisted in unearth- 
ing the prey ; and David had also shot 
an enormous hen hawk on the wing. 
His grandparents, though affectionately 
attentive to the other boys, were evi- 
dently exceedingly proud of " their 


boy," and his mother, with sparkling 
eyes, said: "He's a chip of the old 

Mr. Colman, a stout, handsome, jolly 
man, posted me, much to my chagrin 
(for I was beginning to assume young 
lad}' airs), upon his knee, and, with a 
hearty kiss, pronounced me a beauty, a 
perfect black- eyed queen, and said that 
I should some day be David's little 
wife. " Now don't blush and squirm, 
my pretty, but expound this riddle : 
My wife has two sons, and I have two 
sons, and there are onh' three in the 
whole." I was as much mystified as a 
great many other people I have since 
seen at this favorite enigma, which 
the old gentleman, to the end of a long 
life, never failed to propound to stran- 
gers, always ending the explanation 
with : ' ' and we mixed 'em all up like 
hasty pudding ; never knew any differ- 
ence, they are all mine and all hers." 
This was true, and no three brothers 
could have been more attached to each 
other ; and, in after years, Colonel Jer- 
emiah Colman was as fond of repeat- 
ing the family riddle as his father had 


Six years had elapsed ; still our par- 
ish was destitute of a pastor. Numer- 
ous had been the candidates, but a call 
had been extended to only a few. 
Amongst these favored ones had been 
the Rev. Abraham Moore, and the Rev. 
Daniel Dana, but those gentlemen had 
accepted other invitations. The fourth 
parish, adhering to the teachings of 
Parson Johnson and Dr. Toppan, for 

several years leaned strongly to the an- 
cient faith, but the new and somewhat 
popular idea crept into the congrega- 
tion, and doctrines began to be promul- 
gated and received, which the fathers 
would have vehemently denounced . A 
young candidate by the name of Clark, 
caused a great sensation. Some ac- 
cepted his views with enthusiasm, while 
others denounced his words as a sacri- 
lege to the pulpit, which had been so 
abh* filled. I well remember a call 
this clergyman made on us. A tall, 
pale, light-haired man, with homely 
features, and a rigid, austere air, his ap- 
pearance was most unprepossessing, es- 
pecially to children. I had been a fa- 
vorite with Parson Toppan, and unlike 
so many children at that day, never 
dreamed of feeling awe or fear in the 
presence of the minister ; but Mr. 
Clark's manner was so restrained and 
frigid, there was such an assumption of 
sanctit}', that I instinctively drew aside, 
and quietl}- stole into my low chair in 
the corner of the room, while my little 
brother crouched on his stool beside 
mother, hiding his head under her apron. 
The clergyman seated himself in the 
arm chair mother offered, and after 
hesitating, hemming and hawing, in- 
quired ''if she was the late Parson 
Johnson's granddaughter ? " Having 
been answered in the affirmative, 
with an accession of sanctimony, he 
asked, "if she held to his tenets?" 
The good woman was too much occu- 
pied, with her dairy and her family, to 
trouble her head much about doctrines, 
but father was a staunch supporter of 
the old creed, and somewhat timidly, 
but with decided .firmness, she replied, 
' ' that she had never seen cause to de- 
part from the teachings in which she 
had been reared." Our visitor, hummed, 


hawed, drew his fingers through his 
lank, white hair, then wheeling round 
facing my poor, trembling, little self, 
he abruptly asked, " Child, where 
would you go if you were to die ? " I 
could have truthfully told him, I did not 
know, but my tongue was palsied, I 
quaked all over with terror. In a still 
more severe tone he continued, "Child, 
do you know the catechism ? " I man- 
aged to enunciate, "Yes, sir." " Then 
you know that, as a child of Adam, you 
were born totally depraved, and unless 
you are born again in Christ 3'ou must 
be eternalby damned. There are many 
little children in hell, yes, children as 
young as }"ou, suffering fiery torments." 
I do not know what farther he might 
have said, for with an hysterical scream 
I sprang to my feet, and mother led me 
from the room, leaving grandmam, who 
was deaf as a post, to do the parting 
ceremonies. Father upon learning of 
the afternoon's occurrence, was posi- 
tively furious, and he neither went him- 
self nor permitted any of the family 
to attend divine service through Mr. 
Clark's ministration. The summer of 
1798 the Rev. Leonard Woods came to 
preach, and after considerable disagree- 
ment and hesitation, a call to the can- 
didate was given and accepted, the cer- 
emony of ordination being fixed for the 
fifth of December. From the first Sun- 
day my father had not been exactly 
pleased with the new preacher, and as 
the weeks passed this distrust and dis- 
satisfaction increased. These senti- 
ments were shared by a respectable mi- 
nority, but with the true democratic 
spirit, they gracefully 3'ielded to the will 
of the majority, and the preparations 
for the ordination were commenced with 
the accustomed hospitable bountiful- 

ness. A few families, zealous for the 
ancient regime, declaring the pastor 
elect "a wolf in sheep's clothing, at 
heart a true blue Hopkinsiau," de- 
clined to open their houses, or take any 
part in the festivities or solemnities. 
Amongst these were my father, the 
Doles and Master Chase. Aunt Ruth 
Little was one of Parson Wood's most 
enthusiastic supporters. She devoted 
a whole evening to the vain task of 
bringing my father to a coincidence in 
her views. Her rhetoric was complete- 
ly wasted, and, quite angry, she re- 
turned home, to wonder at "that obsti- 
nate Jim Smith. He was a real Jacob- 
ite infidel. Prudy was to be pitied ; a 
minister's granddarter, too ; it was scan- 
dalous ! " Her preparations for the or- 
dination were upon the grandest scale. 
Mrs. Colman came to assist two or 
three days prior to it, and quiet Uncle 
John was stirred up into an unusual in- 
terest and activity. The best of viands 
were procured, the case bottles replen- 
ished with choice liquors, and a good 
supply of New England rum provided 
for the refreshment of the more humble 
class of visitors. Grandmother Little 
had everything in readiness for the ex- 
ercise of due hospitality, but there was 
no fuss nor parade. Deacon Tenney, a 
dignitary of the church, of course, was 
obliged to keep open house. Aunt Sa- 
rah went to help her sister. Our house- 
hold were habitually in readiness for 
company, as, living on the old family 
homestead, we were any day liable to 
unexpected guests. Our Thanksgiving 
mince pies and plum cake were fresh ; 
there Avere plenty of pickles, apple- 
sauce and preserves ; but mother quiet- 
ly baked an oven full of pumpkin and 
apple pies and fried a large batch of 


company doughnuts, Avhile a nice sir- 
loin of beef was as quietly reserved for 
the important occasion. 

The anticipated fifth of December 
arrived, a terribly cold, blustering 
daj\ The snow, which had recently 
fallen to a considerable depth, filled 
the air, blinding both 'man and beast, 
and blocking the roads in such a man- 
ner that ox teams were kept going to 
and fro to keep them passable. Father 
did have the grace to break a path 
through our lane in the morning, and 
mother roasted the beef and baked a 
plum pudding, but we had only one 
visitor. Mr. Reuben Pearson, of By- 
field, managed to wade through the 
snow on horseback, but it blew into 
the avenue as fast as it was cleared, 
and at night it was level with the boun- 
dary walls. In the evening David 
Emery and William Thurrill came in 
on snow-shoes. Uncle Thurrill' s only 
daughter married Mr. Jonathan Smith, 
of Haverhill. Mr. and Mrs. Smith 
and several friends had come to her 
father's the night previous upon their 
return from the services at noon ; 
they found the lane leading to the 
house impassable, and were obliged to 
sit in the sleigh until a path was clear- 
ed. The}' were snow-bound, and com- 
pelled to remain over another night. 
David Emery gave a graphic descrip- 
tion of the ceremonies at the church. 
Every one Avas nearly frozen in the icv 
building, warmed at that period by 
nothing larger than the tin foot-stoves, 
with which most of the women were 
supplied. The wind whistled and 
howled as it swept over the summit of 
the lofty hill, rattling the loose win- 
dows and screeching amid the stout 
rafters of the ancient pile. The lad 
had called on Master Chase. That ec- 

centric gentleman, having built a tre- 
mendous fire in the sitting-room, donn- 
ed hat and overcoat, inufliing himself 
to the eyes in a huge red bandanna, 
and drawing on a pair of striped yarn 
mittens, he mounted guard in the en- 
try, pacing back and forth in a silence 
which was only broken to inform in- 
comers, of which, as it was the old 
parsonage, and so near the meeting- 
house there were mam-, " that the}' 
could warm themselves, but nothing 
more." David was immensely tickled 
with the queer oddity. " Oh, you 
ought to have seen him, Mr. Smith, so 
grim and glum, but he did pinch my 
ear, saying that I was my father's own 
son, I must come and see him some 
other day." The youth was not just 
pleased at the doings at his grand- 
father's. " Such a crowd ! The house 
had been thronged ; he would not have 
entertained such a gang. The horses 
had eaten more than half a ton of the 
best English hay ; the pantry Avas emp- 
ty, the liquor case ditto, and those Dog- 
towners had drank a gallon of new 
rum, and nobody knew IIOAV much 
cider he drew till he wouldn't draw 
any more. He thought grandsir had 
not enjoyed the day, but grandmam 
said we could not sufficiently rejoice 
that such a blessed man Avas settled 
over us." 

As father and others had predicted, 
the ordination over, a new order of 
things began to be initiated. During 
the Avinter it had been customary for 
the middle-aged and elderly people to 
gather at social teas, after which the 
hours were enlivened by a game of 
checkers, backgammon or cards ; and 
the young people held evening parties, 
where the youth and maidens tripped 
on ' ' the light fantastic toe " to a tune 


hummed by themselves, or, if any of 
the number chanced to be musical, to 
the notes of a fife or flute. Once or 
twice in the season a ball, over which 
Fiddler Bailey from the "Port" pre- 
sided, was held in a hall on the main 
road. The new pastor soon announced 
his condemnation of this innocent gaie- 
ty. A series of sermons was preached 
which pretty effectually stopped danc- 
ing and card playing ; if either were 
enjoyed it was surreptitiously, but, how- 
ever on the sly, somehow the malprac- 
tice never escaped the minister's knowl- 
edge. Fearing "spies from the ene- 
mies' camp," other recreations amongst 
the younger people were substituted 
romping, games and forfeits which 
even Parson Woods must have admitted 
were no improvement over the decorous 
contra dance. The same might have 
been queried respecting their ciders, 
when, in lieu of their former round 
game of cards, their only amusement 
became the discussion of politics, and 
the scandal of the town and vicinity. 
Amongst the pastor's favorites, social 
visiting gave place to a course of even- 
ing meetings, which were held at the 
several school-houses. While many 
were enthusiastic in praise of these ser- 
vices, they were disapproved by the 
opposition and the more elderly people. 
The Sabbath ministrations and the 
Thursday lecture had hitherto sufficed ; 
they had no faith in these new inven- 
tions. "More than half went jest to 
pass away the time and pick up the 
news ; as for the young folks, it was a 
nice place to see the gals, and to pick 
up a beau ; they guessed there would 
be as much courting as godliness." 

In the spring another incident caused 
greater disagreement. During former 
pastorates every child presented for 

the rite had been admitted to baptism. 
It began to be whispered that Parson 
Woods intended to set aside the ' ' half- 
way covenant," and baptize only the 
offspring of church members. A niece 
of aunt Sara No}-es (recently married) 
and her husband had come to reside 
with and take care of the old lady and 
her farm. In March a son was born to 
this couple, which Aunt Sara desired 
christened. As neither Mr. nor Mrs. 
George were communicants, she thought 
it proper to ascertain the clergyman's 
sentiments. Without hesitation, he 
promised to baptize the infant : "It was 
too cold to take out such a young babe ; 
when the weather grew milder he would 
arrange for the ceremony." But Sun- 
day after Sunday passed ; the minis- 
ter could never be made to appoint a 
day for the rite, some excuse was al- 
ways ready, till at length it became un- 
derstood that thenceforth only church 
members would be permitted to present 
their children at the baptismal font. 
Aunt Sara was excessively indignant ! 
The great-granddaughter of the Rev. 
James Noyes ; the daughter of the for- 
mer senior deacon (one next in dignity 
to the pastor) , and herself one who at 
all times had been most active, not only 
in the families of the clergymen, but 
throughout the parish, whenever her 
services or money could promote the 
good of the church, Aunt Sara had 
come to be regarded, and I think, also 
(though she would have disclaimed my 
assertion), to look upon herself some- 
what in the light of a lady elect. A 
slight to such a person could not remain 
unnoticed. Many were really grieved 
at this change in the baptismal ordi- 
nance ; others were angry at what they 
considered duplicity ; many remarked 
that it was "the cunning, the ma- 



uoeuvering, that excited ire and aver- 
sion. The pastor's manner was so ar- 
bitrary and domineering that the}" must 
regard it as positively insolent. He 
ought to be taught that he was not a 
pope to head a hierarchy, but simply a 
preacher chosen to minister to a con-, 
gregational societ}-." Several, refusing 
longer to listen to his teaching, left the 
society for other parishes ; while some, 
Aunt Sara and Master Chase were of 
the number, passed the day in private 
devotion at home. Sometimes the 
Master joined Miss Noyes, to read 
aloud a sermon he had written. The 
Master was proud of his sermons. In 
his vicinhVy dwelt another family, of 
bachelors and maids, b} T the name of 
Hills two brothers and four sisters. 
The good women were fond of inviting 
the master in of an evening, to read 
a sermon to them. One of these ser- 
mons became memorable, causing a deal 
of mirth, from the unique text, which 
read : "A wonder was seen in heaven, 
a woman." Father's dissatisfaction 
was so great that he took a pew in the 
new church that had recently been built 
at B\-field. 

A disagreement had arisen in that 
society at the settlement of the Rev. 
Elijah Parish. The minority separated 
from the parent Church, formed a new 
society, and put up a house of worship 
near where the Depot is now located. 
Parson Slade, an Englishman, educated 
under the auspices of Lady Hunting- 
don, was called to fill the pulpit. Our 
family continued to occupy their pew 
in the old meeting-house, but I often 
rode over to Byfield with my father. 
This society consisting of some of 
the most prominent -and wealthy fami- 
lies, the Moodys, Longfellows, Tit- 
combs, Adams, and Pearsons con- 

tinued several years. At length the 
talent and fame, coupled with the ge- 
nial humor of the celebrated Dr. Par- 
ish, drew the seceders back to the old 
church. Their meeting-house was sold 
to Deacon Benjamin Colman, who re- 
moved it near his residence and fitted 
it up for a school. A female seminary 
was established there, which for a num- 
ber of years enjoyed an enviable celeb- 

The next October, Parson Woods 
was united in marriage with a Miss 
Wheeler, a young lady from New 
Hampshire, and a parsonage was fur- 
nished for the young couple on the 
Main road. Several ladies were active 
in this service ; Aunt Ruth Little was 
foremost amongst them, and she stren- 
uously exerted herself to incite mother 
and Aunt Sarah to her own enthusiasm. 
"Why, the blessed minister ' spake as 
never man spake ! ' And it was report- 
ed on good authority, that his bride 
was every way his equal." Though 
mother made no demonstration she 
good-naturedly assisted Aunt Ruth in 
forwarding some of her favorite plans, 
and Aunt Sarah's sendees were enlist- 
ed at Deacon Tenney's. It had been 
arranged that the officers of the church, 
the more prominent members, and the 
intimate friends of the clergymen and 
their wives, should meet the bridal party 
at the Bradford line, and escort them to 
their new home, where an entertain- 
ment was to be given. This pro- 
gramme caused an excessive fluster 
amongst the feminine portion of the 
community. Our ladies had acquired 
a somewhat enviable reputation as 
cooks, and much anxiety was evinced 
that on this important occasion their 
credit should be maintained, no little 
rivalry being elicited, in both the quan- 


tit}" and quality of the viands. Dress 
also became a momentous matter ; moth- 
er, whose skill and taste were unques- 
tionable, was fairly besieged b}- mem- 
bers of the family, to cut new dresses 
or remodel old ones. Deacon Tenney 
brought his wife a new silk dress from 
Boston, and a fashionable sister select- 
ed an elegant hat in Haverhill, that 
place having even then acquired a prom- 
inence for its style and fashion. Our 
good aunt, a modest, retiring woman, 
though exceedingly ladylike in manner, 
yielded, though much against her wish- 
es, to her husband's will in these mat- 
ters, and much to his and her daugh- 
ter's delight, Madam Tenney was pro- 
nounced the handsomest and best 
dressed woman in .the cortege. On the 
appointed day, about thirty chaises met 
at the place of rendezvous, the last 
house in the parish, and as the clergy- 
man and his bride drove up, after an 
hilarious welcome, the cavalcade formed 
in line, the three deacons and their 
wives in front, and dashed over the 
road to the new parsonage, where an 
animated throng awaited them. After 
the ceremony of introduction to the 
young madam was over, the crowd re- 
paired to the tables, which were loaded 
with every luxury. Mirth and good 
cheer ruled the hour, the bridegroom 
grew positive!}- gay, and the bride won 
every heart by her beauty and urbanity. 
After supper, singing was proposed, 
there were many good singers in the 
company, and when several tunes were 
sung, a pra}-er was offered, then fol-; 
lowed a parting hymn, and the throng- 
dispersed well satisfied with the enter- 
tainment. I had been considered too 
young to attend the party, but I saw 
Madam Woods the next Sunday. She 
'' walked out bride " in a green silk 

dress, a white satin bonnet, a white sat- 
in cardinal, trimmed with white fur, and 
a grey fox muff and tippet. She was 
a tall, handsome lady, and the regard 
she at first inspired, continued through 
her sojourn in the parish. 


The farm on which the house was lo- 
cated, where our district school had 
been kept, belonged to the widow and 
minor son of the late Robert Adams. 
Mrs. Adams, a sister of my grandfather 
Little, had married Mr. Bradstreet Ty- 
ler, and moved to Boxford ; her young 
son went with her, but on coming of age, 
young Robert took possession of the 
paternal acres, and notice was given, 
that the district must find other accom- 
modation for their school. Uncle Thur- 
rel had a large back chamber, which, 
as nothing better offered, was hired for 
the winter. This was an inconvenient 
location, on the extreme southerly boun- 
dary of the district, too far distant for 
the girls on the opposite side to reach 
in cold weather. Singularly, it so 
chanced that I was the only girl in our 
neighborhood though there were quite a 
number of bo}'s, and to my discomfit- 
ure I found myself alone, the sole girl 
amongst a dozen boys. This was so 
unpleasant that I was permitted to re- 
main from school. The next summer 
Miss Emerson, after some trouble, se- 
cured an unused comb-maker's shop for 
her private school. The winter follow- 
ing, Deacon Tenne}*, anxious to secure 
educational privileges for his daughters, 
offered a rooih. This carried the school 
so far away that a second winter, much 



to my distress, I was debarred from in- 
struction. Father said things were 
wrong, something must be done, a 
school house ought to be built in a 
spot convenient of access. The subject 
was brought to public attention and 
met with general approval, though there 
was some opposition. A school-meet- 
ing was called, and it was voted to build 
a schoolhouse, as nearly in the centre 
of the district as possible. Mr. Oliver 
Dole made a survey, and it was deci- 
ded to place it on the upper side of 
Crane-neck road, at the lower corner of 
the intersecting highway to Bradford, 
now Groveland, nearly opposite where 
the present schoolhouse stands. A 
building about fort}' feet long and thir- 
t}- broad was erected, finished and fur- 
nished in the best approved style of 
the period. The entrance at the south- 
erly corner faced the cross road. Pas- 
sing through an entn-, furnished with 
high and low rows of wooden pegs, you 
entered the school- room. On the left, 
extended the fire-place ; bej'ond stood 
the teacher's desk ; in front rose tier 
after tier of clumsy, unpainted desks, 
front of these, and around the walls 
were ranged low forms. Six good 
sized windows lighted the apartment. 
Two long, narrow rocks supplied the 
place of fire-dogs. The dry kindlings 
were stored in the entn-, but the green 
logs, the chief fuel, lay conveniently near 
the door, where it was cut as needed, b}- 
the older bo}-s. The new school-house 
gave general satisfaction, and was re- 
garded as a sumptuous temple of learn- 
ing, of which the district was justh* 
proud, and the services of Master 
Chase were secured for the inaugura- 
tion session. Noted for his eccentrici- 
ty, great learning and strict discipline, 
the master was greeted by his pupils, 

on that memorable morning, with an 
awe bordering on fear. I had become 
used to his oddities, and, though never 
before reckoned amongst his pupils, 
when visiting at his house I had often 
been invited into the library, while his 
scholars were under instruction, and 
sometimes had participated in the exer- 
cises ; so with more confidence than the 
others, I took the desk to which I was 
assigned. Contrary to the custom, 
Master Chase never opened school with 
prayer. "The devotion brought more 
deviltry than godliness. To prevent 
mischief, one must pray with open 
03-68, like Master Smith at Dummer 
Academy. Let the parents teach 
the children to pray at home ; it was 
not the province of the school- 
teacher." At the commencement of 
his career, this idea had been strongly 
combatted, but without effect, and his 
sway had become so indisputable, that 
now no one thought of questioning it. 
The school seated, the Bible class was 
called to read. Books in hand we 
ranged ourselves before the teacher's 
desk, when to my astonishment, the 
master in a loud, authoritative tone, 
said, "Sallie Smith, take the head of 
the class, and read the first chapter of 
Genesis. The others will open their 
books, and pay particular attention to 
the reading, especially to the pronunci- 
ation and expression." Could I be- 
lieve my ears? Could I have heard 
aright? I, read alone read the whole 
of that long chapter, with all those 
scholars, some of them nearly men 
grown, listening in silence? I could 
never do it ! My inability was signified. 
"Bosh!" cried the master, "Sallie, 
take your place and read." I had heard 
that the teacher's laws were like those 
of the Modes and Persians ; to dispute 


the point was worse than reading, so, 
trembling from head to foot, I moved 
up the class. Encouraging looks were 
given, Uncle Joe Little managed to 
whisper, "Don't be scared," and the 
presence of Nannie Tenney, next to 
whom I found nryself, gave farther re- 
assurance, but the first words were 
both low and tremulous. "Speak 
louder," directed the master, in a won- 
derfully polite and gentle tone, "read 
as well, Miss Sallie, as you did to your 
aunt and myself last autumn." This 
remark expounded the riddle. I could 
not imagine wiry he thus called upon 
me to read. On a recent visit I had 
entertained my relatives one stormy 
evening, by reading to them from the 
"Spectator." Somewhat reassured, I 
managed to get through the chapter, 
after which the class read it verse by 
verse. This finished, we resumed 
our seats, and prepared to copy the 
first rule from Pike's arithmetic, in a 
manuscript book, into which all the 
rules and our examples were copied. 
The master having pointed the pens, 
turned his attention to the younger 
scholars, those whose acquirements had 
not advanced beyond Webster's spell- 
ing book. At half-past ten a recess of 
ten minutes was granted, first to the 
girls, then to the bo3's. I was thank- 
ful to get to the fire, as the sputtering, 
sizzling green logs gave forth only a 
doubtful heat, and my desk at the up- 
per end of the room was intolerably 
cold. Spelling followed the recess. 
The session closed at twelve with an 
intermission of an hour and a half. 
Many of the scholars brought their din- 
ners. The noon was passed in fun and 
frolic by most, though some of the more 
studious availed themselves of this 
time to con their lessons, and some of 

the older boys chopped wood. The 
firing was prepared by the boys, who 
also took turns in kindling the fire, and 
the girls swept the schoolhouse at noon. 
The afternoon exercises were opened 
by the first class, reading from the 
" American Preceptor ;" next the writ- 
ing books were ruled and the copies 
set. While the older pupils were thus 
engaged, the younger scholars again re- 
ceived attention. The afternoon recess 
over, our spelling books were again 
taken out. The master having donned 
his overcoat, red bandanna and woolen 
mittens, took his big ruler in hand, and 
commenced a promenade to and fro be- 
tween the desks and the now smoul- 
dering fire. The recitation in spelling, 
and a second Bible reading closed the 
afternoon session. A few of the girls, 
myself included, at Miss Emerson's 
school had commenced the study of a 
grammar, styled " The Young Ladies' 
Accidence." As we were anxious to 
continue, though out of the common 
course, the master graciously acceded 
to our wish, though he would not per- 
mit his female pupils to cipher in ' ' Frac- 
tions." " It was a waste of time, whol- 
ly unnecessary, would never be of the 
least use to them. If we could count 
our beaux and skeins of yarn it was 
sufficient." Those that I have named 
were the only studies. I was com- 
pelled to continue my Bible reading, 
and the master continued his stern 
sway. The utmost courtesy was en- 
joined. He was as exact in the matter 
of bows, curtseys and other polite for- 
mulas as a French dancing master. 
Occasionally, of a stormy day, perhaps, 
the grim old fellow would relax for 
awhile, and become one of the most ge- 
nial and mirth-provoking of mortals. 
Having raised an uproarious merriment, 



he would suddenly thump silence, with 
his formidable ruler, and the usual rou- 
tine was resumed. Two or three incor- 
rigible dunces received no mere}'. If 
shakings and spankings could have 
brightened their wits, they must have 
become brilliant. Nothing like insub- 
ordination ever appeared, but nothing 
escaped the lynx eye of the teacher, 
and if a scholar was detected in idle- 
ness, or misdemeanor, the Bible or any- 
thing hand}* was launched at the mis- 
creant's head. Mr. Oliver Dole's sec- 
ond son, a lad of twelve, was rather 
more inclined to indolence, than to eith- 
er stud}' or play. He had a trick of 
folding his arms upon the desk, and 
resting his head upon them, he would 
doze away the time given for the prep- 
aration of the lessons. One afternoon, 
Diali having become thus comfortably 
composed, I saw that the master was 
poising his long ruler in the direction 
of the lad's head ; suddenly it whizzed 
across the room ; as it touched him, the 
boy gave a quick start, the missile 
canted sideways, and passed directly 
through a pane of glass in the window 
behind. A suppressed titter ran round 
the room. Without asking permission 
Joseph Little went and brought in the 
ruler. As the cold air blew in, I 
1 stuffed my hood into the sash. Not a 
word was spoken, the exercises pro- 
ceeded as usual, but the next morning, 
much to our astonishment, the glass 
was reset. How the master had pro- 
cured a light, and replaced the glass 
that cold weather has ever remained 
a mystery. Amongst the older boys 
was Samuel Thurrel, Uncle Thur- 
rel's second son. This lad had a 
somewhat pompous air, was rather too 
apt to boast of his father's wealth, and 
the superiority of all his belongings. 

At New Year he had been the recipient 
of a silver watch ; as no other scholar 
had acquired to such an appendage, 
Sam strutted about, to the admiration 
of the smaller fry, while he excited the 
scorn of his mates. This disgust had 
been augmented by the addition of a 
long silver chain from which was sus- 
pended two heavy silver seals, and an 
immense silver key. This show}- orna- 
ment was displayed to the greatest ad- 
vantage, and pains were taken to jingle 
and jangle it, as the young coxcomb 
paraded back and forth, between the 
recitation and his desk. There had 
been an unusual parade one morning, 
even the master had shown signs of im- 
patience. The afternoon session had 
commenced, every scholar but Joe Lit- 
tle was seated. There was the hush 
which preceded the call to read, when 
the door opened, and the tardy pupil 
entered, his face the impersonation of 
imperturbable gravity, and a long chain, 
the curb to a bridle, dangling from his 
pocket ; to this chain was attached two 
seals cut from sole leather, and an enor- 
mous key. With a ludicrous imitation 
of Sam, he made his bow, then strode 
up the aisle, lifting his foot in such a 
manner as to jingle the curb chain at 
every step, while the seals and key 
swung about most conspicuously. At 
sight of the youth, the master's face 
gave a spasmodic twitch, then lie was 
seized with such a fit of coughing, 
that it was some moments ere the ruler 
signalled silence, or the general giggle 
that ran round the room was sup- 
pressed, but at length the summons to 
the class came, and though my uncle 
continued to strut about, displaying his 
new ornament, much to the delight of 
the scholars, especially the older girls, 
whose merriment was scarcely repressed, 



he received no reprimand ; no notice 
was taken of the joke, though we all 
knew that the old fellow was enjoying 
it hugely. The next morning, Sam ap- 
peared minus his watch, and Uncle Joe 
never again displayed his curb chain. 
The winter term sped all too soon. 
Notwithstanding his oddity, and strict 
discipline, Master Chase had the skill 
to interest his pupils in their studies, 
and, though the course was somewhat 
meagre, it was thorough. We really 
learned the three studies taught, read- 
ing, writing and arithmetic. Few pu- 
pils of the present day could surpass 
our first class reading, our spelling 
matches must have won the palm, and 
now we rarely see such penmanship as 
was common at that period. Some of 
the arithmetical manuscript were ele- 
gant specimens of chirography. 


On December 14th, 1799, the coun- 
try was called to mourn the death of 
Gen. George Washington. Express- 
ions of heartfelt grief were universal. 
Every one felt that the nation had suf- 
fered an irreparable loss, that the fam- 
ily of states was bereft of its head, its 
father and truest friend. In Newbury- 
port a memorial service was held the 
second of January, when business was 
suspended, and residents of the coun- 
try flocked to the town. While minute 
guns reverberated on the wintry air, 
bells mournfully pealed, and flags sadly 
drooped at half-inast, a long process- 
ion bearing the usual insignia of mourn- 
ing denied through the principal streets 
to the Old South meeting-house, where 

an eulogy was pronounced by Robert 
Treat Paine. It was a day never to 
be forgotten, and the crape badge my 
father had worn was treasured for 
years as a sacred memento. On the 
22d of February, Byfield commemorat- 
ed the birth and death of Washington 
by tolling the bell of the meeting-house 
an hour in the morning, and an ora- 
tion, delivered by the Rev. Eh'jah Par- 
ish. People from Newburyport and 
the whole country side thronged the 
house, drawn thither by the reputation 
for eloquence which the orator had ac- 

Uncle Samuel Smith had prospered 
on his Vermont farm. Good buildings 
had been erected and most of the laud 
cleared and brought under cultivation. 
His wife's prophec}' had been fulfilled. 
His pleasing address and varied knowl- 
edge, enlarged by more studious habits 
than was usual to a person in his posi- 
tion, had given him a high place in the 
estimation of his neighbors and towns- 
folk, and he had been called to fill sit- 
uations of trust and honor, both in 
town and county. He usually visited 
his native place every winter, bringing 
a sleigh-load of country produce, which 
was exchanged for dry goods and gro- 

At the end of a bright February af- 
ternoon we espied Uncle Sam's team 
wearily dragging the heavily laden 
sleigh up the lane, and mother began 
preparations for an extra nice supper, 
as our relative was somewhat of an ep- 
icure. After the first greetings and 
mutual inquiries were over, Uncle Sam 
passed to religious topics, and much to 
our surprise we learned that he had be- 
come interested in the new doctrine of 
Methodism. An itinerant preacher up- 
on a tour had stopped at his house and 


claimed hospitality, which had been 
cordially extended. A clergyman of 
the strictest Calvinistic proclivities had 
been recently settled over the congre- 
gation at Berlin. Uncle Sam did not 
coincide with the new minister, but he 
was immediately impressed by the 
views which his guest unfolded. It 
was near the end of the week, and the 
missionary was invited to stop over 
Sunday and preach in the schoolhouse. 
The news circled through the district 
and the building was thronged. The 
people were not united respecting the 
regular minister, and the stranger pro- 
duced a marked effect. He was invited 
to prolong his sojourn ; Uncle Sam and 
many others became converted, and a 
church was formed. The preacher had 
then gone to new spheres of labor, but 
Uncle Sam and others conducted a reg- 
ular Sunday worship at the school 

Before returning Uncle Sam gave us 
a specimen of Methodism in a long and 
singularly well-worded prayer, deliver- 
ed in the loudest tones of a powerful 
but finely modulated voice ; this peti- 
tion was followed by a good hymn set 
to one of the enlivening Methodist 
tunes. Mr. Smith had a remarkable 
voice and an exquisite ear and taste, 
and his singing was superb, I was 
enchanted b}' it. Mother liked the 
hymn, but father shook his head and 
gravely declared his sorrow : " Sam's 
head always would be full of some- 
thing. He had got over dancing and 
poetry, now it was preaching, pray- 
ing and singing. "Well, what was born 
in the bone could not be beat out of 
the flesh. He never was cut out for a 
drudging farmer, and he never would 
be one ; he only hoped he would not 
let that farm he had got under such 

headway go all to rack and ruin." 
Grandm'am was so deaf that it was 
difficult to make her comprehend the 
matter ; but Uncle Sam was too zeal- 
ous to leave her long unenlightened. 
This good woman was positively 
aghast : " Her son, her son Sam, turn- 
ed Methodist !" 

Grandm'am came of a " first fami- 
ly ;" she was as complete an aristocrat 
as ever trod in No. 2 shoes. " Some- 
thing must be done ; she could not 
have any such doings. Why, it was a 
disgrace to the family, and would 
bring ruin to himself! He had be- 
come of some account in that far- aw a v 
place ; he should not subject himself 
and his friends to ignominy, and mar 
his bright prospects. Methodists, why 
they were ranters, gathered from the 
lower classes ! . Her son had nothing 
to do with such people. It was pre- 
posterous !" And the sweet, mild little 
woman put on all the assumption of 
authority that she could possibly as- 
sume, and in the most solemn manner 
pronounced her ban upon this new 
spiritual scheme. Aunt Sarah pished 
and pshawed over the praying and 
singing, then fidgeted and fussed re- 
specting the business of selling and 
buying, declaring that " Brother was 
so full of his new religion that he 
couldn't tell a cent from a dollar ;" and 
when he brought home a dress pattern 
of black silk for his wife, and a tasty 
blue silk bonnet for his daughter, she 
sat clown with a hopeless face, folded 
her hands, and with uplifted eyes, 
washed her hands of the whole pro- 
ceedings. " Sam would never be a 
forehanded farmer, and she really 
feared he would become clean -dis- 
traught. The Lord wasn't deaf, he 
needn't holler so at prayer as to make 



the warming-pan ring in the cellar 
way, or to scare Uncle Thurrel's folks, 
who couldn't imagine what all that 
shouting over to Jim Smith's meant. 
.She thought Method}' women cut off 
their hair and made frights of them- 
selves, but then sister hadn't lost her 
senses, like her husband, as she knowed, 
and for all his piety, Sam had too much 
of the old Adam yet, to let his pretty 
Sail}- wear anything but the most be- 
coming." A thaw came and Uncle 
Sam's stay was prolonged. The intel- 
ligence of his embracing Methodism, 
caused no small stir amongst his rela- 
tives and acquaintances, and every eve- 
ning our house was thronged. Some 
came to hear of the new doctrines from 
mere curiosity, others from a desire for 
knowledge, and a few earnestly to com- 
bat what they deemed a serious error, 
affecting both the temporal and spiritu- 
al welfare of the convert. Amongst 
the most forward and zealous of this 
class, was Aunt Ruth Little. It was 
vastly amusing to listen to the war of 
words, and, it must be confessed, Un- 
cle Sam proved more than a match for 
the contestants. Politics also claimed 
a due share in the conversation. Par- 
ties were in a furious ferment. "Fed- 
eralist" and "Democratic" (or Jacob- 
in, as the party was usually termed) 
lines were tightly drawn, each display- 
ing unseemly rancor and bitterness, 
which had sometimes merged into strife. 
Father and Uncle Sam were Jacobins, 
the majority of the visitors Federalists. 
Uncle Thurrel was a great politician. 
In the strongest terms he would de- 
nounce ' ' that Tom Jefferson ; if he was 
raised to the presidency there would be 
a second French revolution ; the nation 
would find to their sorrer that they had 
got a second Robertspear to rule over 

"em." Robespierre had for a time been 
Uncle Thurrel's pet bugbear, and his 
name continued to be brought forward 
long after he was mouldering in the 
grave. Aunt Ruth, with characteristic 
A'ehemence, would plunge into the dis- 
cussion. Her face aglow, and her knit- 
ting needles clicking, she would volubly 
expatiate upon the unsoundness and ir- 
reverence of the great Democratic lead- 
er. ' ' Why, if he was elected president 
the country would be turned upside 
down ! Tom Jefferson was no better 
than Tom Paine. He believed in Vol- 
taire as much as he did in Christ, and 
put the Age of Reason afore the Bible. 
Let him get the reins of government 
and there would be no more 'Sabba' 
day ; ' the meetin'-'uses would all be 
shet, and another rein of terror spread 
over the land." 

At the height of his wife's vehemence 
quiet Uncle John contrived to change 
the subject, by some timely question or 
droll remark. Uncle Sam would tune 
tip in one of his lively Methodist hymns, 
and the company would disperse in all 
neighborly friendship, though Aunt 
Ruth never went without a last word of 
warning and rebuke. 


A second surprise came to the fam- 
ily and parish in the engagement of 
Aunt Susanna Little to her first cousin 
Robert Adams. This young gentleman 
had inherited what, at that period, was 
reckoned a fortune ; as he was hand- 
some and prepossessing, he had been 
riageable daughters in the most favora- 
regarded by anxious mammas and mar- 

ble light, and the efforts had not been 
slight, to win his favor, but young Rob- 
ert had proved invulnerable. Though 
he had taken possession of his farm, 
he had boarded in the family of his 
cousin Edmund Little, who rented his 
house, in bachelor content. Now, with- 
out the least warning, it was announced 
that Sukey Little had won the prize, 
that Mr. Adams was making arrange- 
ments to put up a new house, and the 
marriage would take place on its com- 
pletion in the autumn. 

The Adams families of Newbury 
claim to have descended from John Ap 
Adam, who was summoned to parlia- 
ment as a Baron of the Realm from 
1296 to 1307. He descended from a 
family in Wales whose record runs back 
several centuries. The genealogy is as 
follows : 

John Ap Adam Elizabeth Gourney. 
Sir John Ap Adam 
William Ap Adam 
Sir John Ap Adam 
Thomas Ap Adam Jane Inge. 
Sir John Ap Adam Miliscent Besylls. 
Sir John Ap Adam alias Adams Clara 

Roger Adams Jane Eliott. 
Thomas Adams Maria Upton. 
John Adams Jane Benneleigh. 
John Adams Catherine Stebling. 
John Adams Margaret Squier. 
Richard Adams Margaret Armager 

who had two sons, Robert, who mar- 
ried Elizabeth Shirland, and William, 

who married Barrington. Henry, 

one of the sons of William, came to 
New England in 1630, and died in 
Braintree. He was the ancestor of the 
presidents John and John Quincy Ad- 
ams. Robert, the son of Robert, came 
from Devonshire to Ipswich in 1635, 
thence to Salem in 1638, and . to 
Newbury in 1640. His wife, Eleanor, 
died June 12th, 1677. He died Oct. 
12th, 1682. His second wife, Sara. 
widow of Henry Short, he married 

Feb. 6th, 1678. She died Oct. 24th, 
1 6D7. Children : Abraham, born 1639 ; 
Isaac, born 1648 ; Jacob, born April 23, 
1649, died in infancy ; another Jacob 
born Sept. 13th, 1651 ; Hannah, born 
June 25th, 1650; Robert, Elizabeth, 
Joanna, Mary and John. Abraham 
Adams, son of Robert married Mary 
Pettingell, Nov. 16th, 1670. Children ; 
Robert, born May 12, 1674 ; Abraham, 
born Ma}* 2d, 1676 ; Isaac, bora Feb. 
26th, 1679 ; Sara, born April 15th, 1681 ; 
Matthew, born" May 25th, 1686 ; Israel. 
born Dec. 25th, 1688 ; Dorothy, born 
Oct. 25th, 1691 ; Richard, born Nov. 
22d, 1693. Matthew, the fourth son 
of Abraham Adams, born Ma}- 25th, 
1686, married Sara Knight April 4th, 
1707, and was the first physician in 
what is now West Newbury, where he 
owned a large tract of land. He died 
Nov. 15th, 1755, aged 69. He had 
two sons, Matthew and Abraham, and 
two daughters ; one married Joseph 
Bartlett, of the west precinct, the other, 
Judith, married my great grandfather, 
Capt. Edmund Little. Their daughter, 
Eunice, married her kinsman Robert 
Adams of the "Farms District," who 
purchased the farm on Crane-neck for- 
merly owned by my grea-tnncle Wil- 
liam Smith. Mr. Adams died young 
leaving this one son Robert. The Ap 
Adams arms are 




Great was the commotion over the 
engagement. Suddenly several people 
made the discovery that gentle, quiet 
Aunt Suke}' ' ' was a sly thing, a real 
artful piece, despite her demure ways ; 
still waters ran the deepest. They 
guessed Robert Adams would rue the 
day he married her, the proud miss, so 
grand in her airs the ground didn't 
seem good enough for her to tread on ! 
No good ever came of such marriages, 
first cousins were altogether too near." 
A series of visits were vouchsafed us, 
which we well understood was for the 
express purpose of gleaning informa- 
tion respecting the pros and cons of the 
affair. Amongst these visitors were 
two of the old maid Hills. Joseph, 
Joshua, Nabbie, Lizzie, Nannie and 
Hannah Hills, resided on a farm on a 
cross road beyond Meeting House hill. 
Out of this family, one brother, Mr. 
Eliphelet Hills, alone had married. 
Mr. Joseph and Joshua were pleasant, 
estimable men. In company with 
mother's uncle, John Merrill (the great 
grandfather of Ben : Parley Poore) , 
Uncle Josh, for }-ears, took tea with us 
in the Thanksgiving holidays, when the 
jolly pair smacked their lips, joking 
each other about gormandizing over 
" Prudy's niceties." The sisters were 
precise, genteel bodies, in their more 
youthful days attired in the tip of the 
mode, greatly exciting my admiration 
as the}' followed one another up the 
broad aisle of the meeting-house with 
silks rustling and plumes waving. Mrs. 
Liph. Hills (a Miss Sarah Wyman 
from the vicinity of Boston) was a 
a milliner. She had a shop in her house 
on the main road, where she worked at 
her trade, and kept a variety of wares, 
and her sisters-in-law were famed for 
their tasty head gear. They had also 

become noted for several little, harm- 
less idiosyncrasies. Some ideas re- 
specting housekeeping were especially 
ludicrous. Though the food was bought 
in common, each brother and sister pro- 
vided their own tea and coffee, and 
each had a separate pot. Uncle Joe 
drank chocolate, Uncle Josh, coffee, 
Miss Nabby, strong old hyson, Miss 
Lizzie liked hers weaker, Miss Nannie 
preferred young hyson, while Miss 
Hannah never drank anything but Sou- 
chong. It was exceedingly diverting 
to see the six small pots, like the 
" four and twenty white pots all in a 
row," sizzling on six little mounds of 
embers before the capacious fire. Vis- 
itors could take their choice, or have a 
variety. The girls of the vicinity got 
a deal of fun, from visiting the maid- 
ens, and taking a sip all round. On a 
wild March day, about one o'clock, in 
the midst of a smart snow squall, I 
caught a glimpse of Miss Nannie's red 
cloak whisking round the corner of the 
house, while Miss Lizzie, a stout, 
heavy woman, breathlessly toiled in the 
rear. I ran to admit the visitors, who 
came laughing in, Miss Nannie inquir- 
ing, "if I thought they snowed down 
in the squall?" Having rested and 
gained their breath, they divested them- 
selves of cloaks and hoods, informing 
us as they did so "that they had come 
early and must go early ; they should 
like tea in good season." This was an 
invariable formula, and had passed into 
a by- word amongst the lively young 
people. Having become comfortably 
ensconced before the fire, their fine 
company knitting in hand, the stream 
of talk commenced. Aunt Sarah was 
able to crow over the others, as she 
had possessed Robert Adams' confi- 
dence some weeks before his proposal. 



' ' She saw no hurt in the young coup- 
le marrying, although the} 7 were near 
relations. They were wholly dissimi- 
lar in temperament, and strongly at- 
tached to each other. The Littles were 
famous for intermarrying ; she could 
not see that any hurt had come of it. 
Take them as a whole they were a pret- 
ty smart lot." The visitors wisery 
shook their heads, and as wisely con- 
cluded that the young couple would 
take their "ain gate " spite of remarks 
or remonstrance. The sisters had a 
deal to tell of the Daltons and Hoop- 
ers, two distinguished families, owning 
two elegant country seats on "Pipe 
Stave Hill." Mr. Dalton, at that time 
our senator in Congress, was in Wash- 
ington, but his family were at their 
town residence, the fine old mansion 
opposite the Merrimac House in New- 
buryport. The Hoopers remained 
through the year in the country. Sev- 
eral gay sleighing parties had ridden 
up to the farm during the winter ; the 
spacious residence had been the scene 
of much convivial festivity. Madam 
Hooper had also spent some weeks in 
Boston. A detailed account of the 
splendor of the wardrobe prepared for 
this excursion was given and various 
other on dits of fashionable life, and 
city and town gossip related. Punctu- 
ally at four o'clock, tea was on the ta- 
ble ; the ladies having regaled them- 
selves, and duly praised the -viands, es- 
pecially the plum cake and the cheese 
"Mr. Newell said Prudy Smith's 
cheese commanded the highest price in 
the market at the Port" took their 
leave in high good humor. Drawing 
their hoods over their noses, and wrap- 
ping their thick, red cloaks about them, 
they declared that the} 1 should be "as 
warm as toast ; the wind would drive 

them home, and they should get there 
in grand good season." 

A few mornings after this visit, we 
received a great scare. I went into the 
garret, and, glancing out of the win- 
dow, to my amazement and fright, I 
discerned a dense smoke rising from 
Mr. Oliver Dole's pasture, at the foot 
of the hill. I lost no time in hastening 
down and spreading the alarm. Fath- 
er, Uncle Enoch, and Uncle Thurrel's 
folks hurried over to their neighbors. 
As the wind, which had blown at sun- 
rise, had increased to a gale, the pro- 
gress of the flames was eagerly watched. 
How that pasture came to be burning 
we could not imagine, but the fire soon 
spent itself, and the return of the gen- 
tlemen solved the mystery. The en- 
closure had grown over to huckleberry 
bushes ; in the season, people came to 
pick the berries. Mrs. Dole was a 
Carlton, from the main road, and she 
had man}' visitors. Wagonful after 
wagonful of women and children would 
ride over, put the horse in the barn, go 
into the pasture and fill their baskets 
with huckleberries, then come back to 
the house to tea. This, in the busy hay 
season, was somewhat inconvenient, 
especially as Mrs. Dole was not a veiT 
strong woman. Mr. Dole, though 
neither a morose nor stingy man, lost 
his patience, and declared a stop should 
be put to this ' ' huckleberrying visita- 
tion." Accordingly, he set fire to his 
bushes, thinking to totally destroy 
them ; but, instead, the rising wind 
sent the flames lightl}' over the brush- 
wood, without touching the roots, and 
the result was a splendid growth of 
bushes and an abundant quantity of 
the largest and most luscious fruit. 
Mrs. Dole and the neighbors had much 
sport respecting the result of her hus- 



band's destructive efforts. Mrs. Dole 
said : ' ' Providence did not smile on 
his inhospitable intent." The children 
had grown large enough to pick, and 
the berries were so nice, Mr. Dole mar- 
keted them at the Port to much advan- 
tage, besides entertaining the visitors. 
Owners of old huckleberry pastures 
could take a hint, and, by copying Mr. 
Dole's mode of culture, improve what 
in these days has become quite a desid- 
eratum in the market. 


One of the great institutions of those 
days was the spring and fall trainings. 
There were company musters at the 
training field on the main road in May 
and September, and a regimental re- 
view at the Plains some time in au- 
tumn. The officers of these militia 
companies alone wore uniforms, the pri- 
vates mostly turned out in their Sun- 
day suits. The musket in those days 
was fired by a flint, the spark from 
which lighted the priming in a little ex- 
ternal pan connected with the interior 
charge through a small vent. A prim- 
ing wire about the size of a common 
knitting needle, and a little brush two 
inches long, which hung by a brass 
chain to the belt, were used to keep 
the vent clear and the pan clean. These 
training days were the occasion for a 
general frolic, especially the reviews. 
General trainings drew a motley crowd, 
venders of all sorts of wares, mounte- 
banks and lewd women ; a promis- 
cuous assemblage, bent upon pleasure. 
Beyond the lines there was always 
much carousing and hilarious uproar. 


Many customs were then in vogup, now 
obsolete in military circles, such as fir- 
ing at the legs of an officer at his ap- 
pointment to test his courage, and fir- 
ing a salute before the residence of a 
new officer at sunrise on the morning 
of training day. Of course the recipi- 
ent of these honors was expected to 
give a treat. Many a poor fellow be- 
came somewhat "onsteady" before the 
da}' had far advanced, and more were 
hors-du-combat ere it had closed. Ac- 
cidents often occurred. One officer, 
from the careless loading of a gun, re- 
ceived a severe wound in the leg, and 
Mr. Oliver Pillsbury had several lights 
in his new house broken at a salute in 
honor of his attaining a lieutenancy. 
At this review there was a large caval- 
ry company, including members from 
both Newburyport and Newbury. New- 
buryport had one uniformed company, 
the artillery. I very well remember how 
imposing they looked to Taj childish 
eyes as they marched onto the muster 
field at the plains, to the music of fife 
and drum, with waving flag, and fol- 
lowed by their field pieces. The regi- 
mental bands were then unknown. The 
foot soldiers marched to the fife and 
drum, the cavalry to the notes of the 
bugle. Colby Rogers was trumpeter 
for the troops for many years. The 
Governor and staff and many distin- 
guished guests were present on the 
great day I have recalled. A public 
dinner was given and the festivities 
were closed by a grand ball in the even- 

I was about seven years old when 
this militia system was organized, and 
well do I remember the sensation pro- 
duced by the officers of our company 
presenting themselves at meeting, the 
Sunday preceding the fall training, in 


their .new uniforms. Somerby Chase 
was captain ; Amos Carltori, lieuten- 
ant ; Paul Bailey, ensign ; John Pea- 
body, Josiah Hill, Caleb Chase, and 
Moses Carr, first, second, third and 
fourth lieutenants ; Mr. Bill Hill was 
brigade quartermaster. Capt. Good- 
rich, though he had not then attained 
that title, was an officer in the cavalry, 
and he came out in the new troopers' 
uniform, a red coat, buff vest and 
pants, black leather cap trimmed with 
bear skin, and a tall, stiff, straight, 
red plume. This was a splendid sight 
for our unsophisticated country folks, 
and I fear little attention was given to 
the sermon. 

The tedium of the summer work was 
relieved by the cutting, curing and 
boating the salt hay from the Plum 
Island marsh. Ever}- farmer then 
owned more or less of salt meadow ; no 
one thought of wintering stock without 
salt haj-. Though this brought much 
heavy labor to both men and women, 
it was a break in the monotony of the 
daily round of toil, and for the males, a 
change of air and scene which my fath- 
er considered most beneficial. 

Our hired help were men from the 
small hamlet in the woods, beyond the 
pond, called Dogtown, and good, hon- 
est, trust}* laborers they were. Uncle 
Burrel was father's chief factotum, but 
Joe Gould, Amos Pillsbury, Oliver 
Goodrich and the Rogerses were also 
employed. The rate of wages was 
about fifty cents a day and board, 
through the six working days ; they 
slept and spent the Sabbath at home. 
They often preferred to receive their 
pay in the products of the farm, such 
as corn, Indian meal, potatoes, pork, 
and a little butter. This was a mutual 
convenience, and the best of feelings 

and the most friendly terms were al- 
ways maintained between the employer 
and the employed. Dogtown was two 
miles distant from Crane-neck, and, 
after passing Dole's pond, the road ran 
through thick woods. This, on some 
dark and stormy nights, was rather 
bug-a-booish, and on one occasion old 
Pillsbury got a terrible scare, from 
which he never became wholly relieved. 
We were at breakfast when he entered 
one morning, looking frightened, and 
pale. "What is the matter?" was in- 
stantly queried. The old man lisped 
slightly: "Oh, Mr. Smith, I see a ter- 
rible critter in the woods bey ant the 
pond last night." 

"A terrible critter, Pillsbury? What 
was it like?" father inquired. 

"Oh, Mr. Smith, it was a terrible 
big critter, as big as Brindle's calf; its 
eyes were like fire coals, and it ran 
past me through the bushes, about a 
rod from the road, with every hair 
whistling like a bell. It must have 
been the wolverine." 

"The what, Pillsbury?" 

"The wolverine. My old granny 
used to keep us young 'uns quiet with 
stories about the wolverine out beyant 
in the woods. I used to be afeared to 
stir ten yards from the door o' nights ; 
but, as I had never seen the critter 
afore, I had begun to think it was one 
of granny's stories, but I seed him last 
night, sartin sure ; and his eyes were 
like fire coals, and every hair whistled 
like a bell." 

The old man was so sure that he had 
met some strange animal that the neigh- 
boring men turned out that night, each 
armed and equipped for a deadly en- 
counter with some ferocious beast, but 
nothing was found ; and, though the 
quest was continued by the young men 



and boys for several evenings, no 
strange animal was ever discovered. 
But old Pillsbury, to his dying da}', 
used to declare there was ' ' a wolverine 
in them woods, with eyes like coals of 
fire, and ever}' hair whistling like a 
bell," and nothing conld ever again in- 
duce the old man to travel the road 
alone after nightfall. 

Father's salt meadow was at Hale's 
cove. Grandsir Little owned one be- 
low, in Rowley, and which, as shoe- 
making was brisk, father cut for sever- 
al years in addition to his own. The 
English hay in the barn, the grain 
reaped and the flax pulled, towards the 
last of August or the first of Septem- 
ber, according to the tides, the salt hay 
season began. Father and the other 
mowers these were neighbors, adepts 
in mowing, to whom the highest wages, 
a dollar a day, was paid rode to Old- 
town bridge ; the horse having been 
stabled in one of the adjacent barns, 
Plum Island river was crossed in a 
wherry hired for the day, and the work 
commenced. There was a sufficiency 
of hands to cut the grass before sun- 
set. Having been left to dry for a day 
or so, another day was devoted to cur-' 
ing it ; then came the boating. This 
was the grand epoch. Nice food was 
provided for the mowers and rakers, 
but boating brought a dog-days Thanks- 
giving baking. Mince pies, plum cake, 
rich doughnuts, nice meats, baked beans 
and other tempting viands were packed 
in a wooden chest, along with a small 
keg of cider and a bottle of "Santa 
Cruz" or "Jamaica." Many fanners 
would have thought it impossible to 
get a freight without a gallon or more 
of rum, but father was a temperate 
man, and careful not to put any temp- 
tation before those in his employ. The 

gondola laid at the foot of "Whetstone 
lane ; if the weather proved auspicious 
the freight was usually at the landing in 
thirty-six hours. The neighbors turned 
out with their teams, and the hay was 
carted home, a distance of two miles, 
in a triumphant procession. The mow 
laid, the supper, a most jovial enter- 
tainment, was disposed of, and the 
weary men separated with the declara- 
tion that a "good job, well over," had 
been completed. Though this hay sea- 
son gave additional toil to the women 
of the household, it also brought long 
leisure days ; after the men were finally 
off in the early morning and the work 
done, the rest of the da}' was often de- 
voted to visiting. 

Father had been boating Grandsir Lit- 
tle's hay. I was there to assist, when 
we received an afternoon visit from 
two neighbors the Misses Hill elder- 
ly young ladies, very genteel and prer 
cise. The conversation turned upon 
the universal topic, the haying. The 
visitors expressed much disgust at the 
whole business. " The toil of cooking 
iu such hot weather was so undesira- 
ble, and so much food must be provid- 
ed, it was not possible to prevent some 
from being uneaten, but they always 
threw that away ; they never could 
stomach anything after it had been 
packed for the meadows." As the 
family were not noted for an overabun- 
dance in their larder at any time, and 
the ' ' short commons " given to their 
hired help was proverbial, we were 
rather diverted at their remarks. It 
so chanced that when the provision 
chest had been unloaded the previous 
evening, a mince pie, a loaf of cake 
and a plate of doughnuts had been ta- 
ken out. These with many sly glances 
to her mother, sister and myself, Aunt 



Hannah placed upon the tea table. 
The visitors enjoyed their supper ex- 
ceedingly, helped themselves twice to 
the plum cake "Mrs. Little's raised 
cake was alwaj-s so nice, so much bet- 
ter than they could make ; she had the 
' knack ' for this ;" the other edibles 
were equally eulogized. At early dusk, 
in time for milking, our visitors left us, 
without the least idea that the}' had 
been feasting on ' ' horrid meadow vict- 

In October Aunt Suke}- was mar- 
ried. She had a very quiet wedding, 
and as the new house was completed, 
the young couple took immediate pos- 
session. The new home was only a 
few rods from the old one ; though so 
near, still, the bride's absence from the 
paternal hearth caused a serious vacu- 
um in the household. Uncle Bill mar- 
ried the j'ear after Aunt Betsy ; now 
only Hannah. Ben and Joe remained. 
Though Sukey was the most retiring 
and reticent of the family, she had been 
exceedingly efficient, and she was 
missed even* hour of the day in a mul- 
tiplicity of matters. Some question 
respecting the weather had been moot- 
ed ; it was referred to grandsir : " I do 
not know, Robert carried away our al- 
manac," was his reply. Much sur- 
prised, I cast my eyes to the nail by 
the fireplace where the family calender 
always hung. It was in its place. 
Grandsir caught my look of wonder, 
and the twinkle of his eyes gave me 
the hint. Sure enough ! Robert had 
not only earned away the almanac, but 
a whole treatise of wisdom and pru- 
dence beside. 


April brought the annual "Fast." 

To overtasked or parsimonious house- 
keepers this might be a welcome holi- 
day, on which they could sj-mpathize 
with old Mrs. Tom Pike of Byfield, 
who declared ' ' she'd rnther have 
two Fasts than one Thanksgivin'," but 
to the 3'oung folks and children, the 
da}- was somewhat of a bug-bear. In 
some families of the "stricter sort," 
the children were wont to surreptitious- 
ly store a quantity of food against the 
hungry day. The Perley boj'S of By- 
field always contrived to lay by salt 
fish and crackers in the hay mow. and 
other young people of my acquaintance 
managed to obtain a luncheon between 
the meetings. The late Deacon Jo- 
seph Hale of Byfield, often related an 
incident of a Fast day of his boyhood. 
Having accompanied the sons of the 
Rev. Moses Parsons to the parsonage 
to spend the noon intermission, some- 
what to his surprise, if not horror, 
those young gentleman stealthily enter- 
tained him and supplied themselves 
with a hearty meal. Having become 
fairly gorged with good cheer, they 
seated themselves quietly in the kitch- 
en. As the hour for the afternoon ser- 
vice approached, the good parson, with 
a kindly regard for youthful stomachs. 
came into the room and told the boys, 
' ' that if they were very hungry he 
would permit a slight lunch." This the 
young scamps piously declined, " not 
wishing to make any infringement on 
the religious observance of the day," 
and their clerical papa entered upon the 
afternoon duties, in the full satisfaction 
of possessing sons worthy of a sire's 
confidence and approbation. In most 
households, the breakfast over, a pot 
of beans and an Indian pudding were 
put in the oven ; the morning chores 
done, a sabbatical silence settled over 



the household. At eleven o'clock ev- 
ery one repaired to the meeting-house ; 
as there was but an hour's intermission 
between the services, few left the sanc- 
tuary. The men gathered round the 
door steps, discussing local topics 
or national affairs, the women congre- 
gated in the pews, to talk over house- 
hold matters and the gossip of the 
neighborhood. If it was a warm day, 
the girls gathered on the sunn}- side of 
the meetinghouse, where many sly glan- 
ces were exchanged with the group of 
3"oung men by the horse block. If it 
chanced to be cold they also sought the 
pews, and in groups discussed fashion 
and the beaux, but with a demure air, 
and in low tones as befitted the occa- 

The clerg}-men generally embraced 
this opportunity for some particular 
theme, some peculiar shortcoming eith- 
er of a local or political nature. Dr. 
Elijah Parish was famed for his " Fast " 
sermons. People used to flock to By- 
field meeting-house to hear the doctor's 
diatribes against Jacobin misrule and 
French infidelity. The afternoon ser- 
vice over, the hungry multitude hast- 
ened home to the beans and pudding 
which were nicely smoking in the oven. 
How the gravel stones of the rough 
road would fly as the impatient steeds 
sped down the precipitous descent to 
the peril of life and limb. Supper and 
milking through, the evening was spent 
in reading and conversation. I should 
not have dared to have taken a needle 
in hand on Fast day. To the horror of 
the community, one Fast evening, 
"Bartlett's boys" and some other 
young men went over to "Gunket," 
and played ball after supper. One of 
the number, Enoch Hale, had the mis- 
fortune to sprain his arm, and was una- 

ble to work for some months. This 
was regarded as a special mark of Di- 
vine displeasure, a signal judgment 
for a heinous crime. 

That spring brought a new fashion 
in head gear. Straw bonnets came in- 
to vogue. Peabody, Waterman & Co. 
received an invoice from England, and 
Mrs. Peabody presented one to her sis- 
ter Hannah. I greatly admired this 
bonnet, but mother said she could not 
afford to buy me one that season. 
Aunt Sarah, noticing nry discontented 
visage, inquired the cause, at which 
she signified her readiness to teach me 
to braid straw, and make myself a bon- 
net. Much surprised, I asked how she 
had learned. " As I have most things, 
I taught myself," was the reply. "Dur- 
ing the Revolutionary war two British 
cruisers for two days lay off the mouth 
of the Merrimac. The inhabitants of 
the "Port" were greatly alarmed, mo- 
mentarily expecting a bombardment. 
Your great-aunt Mollie Noyes packed 
her effects, and, with her children, came 
here. Though the men-of-war with- 
drew without any demonstration, as the 
news immediately came that Captain 
Noyes's vessel had been captured, and 
himself and crew were prisoners at 
Dartmoor, Mrs. Noyes remained some 
time. Your father was troubled with 
headache, and often complained of 
the heat of his wool hat. One day 
during haying, Aunt Noyes brought 
him a straw hat, which she said 
Captain Noyes had brought from for- 
eign parts. After it was worn out 
your father missed it so much that the 
idea struck me of braiding one. We 
had a field of oats. I cut some straw, 
took the old hat, and, after patiently 
unbraiding and braiding for a time, at 
length succeeded in obtaining the se- 


cret. I braided and sewed a hat, which, 
though not as handsome as the foreign 
one, did very well. I braided several, 
and can teach }~ou. When the oats 
are large enough to cut you can make a 
prett}- bonnet." 

Mother tried to dissuade me from 
this project. She didn't believe I could 
' ' make anything decent." I was strong 
in faith, and my aunt upheld this de- 
termination. As soon as the straw was 
ripe I began to plait, and soon had 
sufficient for a bonnet. The straw 
was finer than Aunt Hannah's, but, as 
no knowledge of bleaching had been 
obtained, it was not as white ; still, it 
looked very weh 1 . Aunt Sarah fash- 
ioned it in the prevailing mode, but a 
difficulty arose respecting pressing. 
The front was easily managed, but how 
could the crown be shaped? Aunt Sa- 
rah was a person of expedients ; I nev- 
er knew her frustrated in anything she 
set about. A mortar was turned bot- 
tom upward, paper fitted over it, and 
the crown shaped to the requisite form. 
I was jubilant over this bonnet, and 
my aunt Peabody sent a white ribbon 
to trim it, like Aunt Hannah's. Neith- 
er before nor after do I think I was ever 
so proud of an article of dress as I was 
of that bonnet. After this we cut a 
quantity of straw, and I braided father 
a hat. 

This summer was memorable for the 
dismissal of our district school teacher. 
Joseph Adams, a young man of nine- 
teen, and nephew of Mrs. Oliver Dole, 
had been hired to teach the summer 
school. He professed great piety, and 
maintained a grave demeanor, which, 
in school, grew into an imperial stern- 
ness, a manner not calculated to win 
the scholars' affections. Many of the 
parents became dissatisfied after the 

first few days. My father declared the 
teacher wholly unfit for his place ; but 
the summer school was short, and, from 
respect to Mr. and Mrs. Dole, nothing 
was said until I rebelled. There were 
about half a dozen girls in their teens 
in the school ; and, about the third 
week of the term, Master Adams 
brought a book, from which he pro- 
posed that we should read selec- 
tions. This exercise was in addition 
to the regular course. I have forgot- 
ten the title of the book, but it was 
some religious treatise. Having ranged 
the class before his desk, he took the 
book, and, standing behind the pupil, 
he passed his arms around her neck, 
holding it before her, while he correct- 
ed the errors of pronunciation and 
enunciation. A sentence having been 
read, he passed to the second, and so 
down the class. Being the youngest. 
I was the last. The dresses were at 
that time cut low in the neck, and I 
immediately saw that the young man's 
gaze was not constantly fixed upon the 
book, and I determined that his arms 
should not go round me in that man- 
ner ; I would either hold the book or 
not read. When my turn came I sig- 
nified this decision. The master turned 
as red, and bristled up like a turkey 
" cock ; but my resolution could not be 
shaken, and a compromise was effected, 
he holding one side of the book and I 
the other. Father said that I had done 
right ; I might do as I pleased respect- 
ing the reading ; it was not a regular 
school exercise, and the master had no 
right to force me. Accordingly, the 
next afternoon, I declined to join the 
class. The master began to threaten, 
but soon saw he could not use coercion. 
Thenceforth I was permitted to pursue 
my own course, but I immediate ly per- 


ceived that I had become a special ob- 
ject of enmit}- ; a spite that was ex- 
tended to the other and younger mem- 
bers of my family. My brother James 
was menaced with a whipping for a 
slight misdemeanor, but the sturdy boy 
threatened his father's vengeance in 
such a manner that the master wisely 
desisted. Still, I could see the smoth- 
ered wrath, ready to seize the first op- 
portunity when it could find vent. 
The opportunit}' was at length taken. 
My uncle, Enoch Smith, had married, 
some years previous, Miss Hannah 
Woodman. Their two sons, Samuel 
and Moses, attended school. Moses 
was a poor, little, puny boy of five 
years, a delicate, sickly child from in- 
fancy, but of a quiet and amiable dis- 
position, and, having a wholesome 
dread of Master Adams, he was the 
ast one to have made a disturbance. 
Diah Dole, the great dunce, that Mas- 
ter Chase thumped and shook so un- 
mercifully, was fully double in age. 
He occupied a front desK ; Moses sat 
on the low form in front of that. One 
afternoon, soon after the school was 
called to order, Diah spat upon the 
floor, and with his toe (he was bare- 
foot) marked out a figure in the aisle, 
then, contrary to rules, leaned forward 
and whispered: "Mose, look at my 
cock ; I 've made a cock, a biddy." 
The little boy glanced from his primer, 
and, with a look of disdain, drew his 
shoe over the figure. Diah, with an 
angry push, said : ' ' You have spoiled 
my cock ! " Moses put up his hand 
and slapped Diah's face. The master 
flew from his desk, shook Moses un- 
mercifully, and told Diah to mind his 
book. At recess he directed Moses to 
bring him a rod from a bush by the 
roadside. The unsuspecting child 

obeyed. I thought he was to be 
whipped then, but the punishment was 
held in reserve. I had hoped that my 
suspicions had been groundless, that 
Moses would not receive chastisement ; 
but I found, when school was dismissed, 
the little boy was retained. I hurried 
home to inform his mother. It was 
such a trivial thing Aunt Smith paid 
little heed, but I kept an outlook, and 
after a while I espied Moses creeping 
up the lane ; dragging his little feet 
wearily along, he sank upon a log just 
inside the gate. I ran to him. He 
gazed stupidly into my face, and, with 
a piteous moan, sank fainting into my 
arms. My cries aroused the family ; 
the child was taken to the house, and 
the plrysician summoned. Conscious- 
ness was restored, but the poor little 
back was shockingly mangled, and 
vomiting continued at intervals through 
the night. Dr. Eoore looked gruff and 
glum, and took so much snuff I thought 
he must choke. After a time he ex- 
pressed a hope of the little boy's recov- 
ery, but his maledictions on the cruel 
teacher were both loud and deep "the 
infernal scoundrel ; he would like to 
seat him in the pillory and thrash him 
within an inch of his life ! " This in- 
dignation was universal. There was 
not time to call a regular school meet- 
ing that evening, but the gentlemen of 
the neighborhood (they all had come 
in to see Moses) agreed to meet at the 
school-house the next morning and for- 
bid Master Adams entrance. Accord- 
ingly, when the young man opened the 
door, he found himself confronted by 
half a dozen of the influential men of 
the town, who informed him that his 
services were no longer required ; that 
his presence in that house would not be 
permitted. The discomfitted teacher 



for a time was terribly angry and defi- 
ant, but at length was obliged to yield. 
At a school meeting in the evening he 
was deposed by a unanimous vote. 
Uncle Enoch sued Mr. Adams, and the 
case was tried at the September term 
in Newbinyport. The master was sen- 
tenced to pay the costs of court and 
sixty dollars. The money was put in 
the bank for Moses, and Mr. Adams, 
unable to procure a school, was obliged 
to lower his aspirations and obtain a 
livelihood on the seat of a shoemaker's 

I recall an incident that occurred 
during this trial. Father and Uncle 
Enoch returned one night from town, 
declaring that they had that day wit- 
nessed a sight that never had been seen 
before and never would be again. A 
vessel belonging to the then flourishing 
firm of Farris & Stocker had arrived 
from South America, and their super- 
cargo, Mr. Oliver Putnam (since the 
founder of the Putnam Free School) , 
had brought by it a large sum of mon- 
ey. The Spanish government had pro- 
hibited the exportation of bullion, and 
Mr. Putnam had concealed the silver in 
the sides of the vessel. Carpenters 
were set to work to tear off the sheath- 
ing, and the* Spanish dollars, turned as 
black as ink, Avere taken in bushel bas- 
kets and carried between two men, to 
be cleansed in a large cauldron, bor- 
rowed from a soap boiler's establish- 
ment, which was placed over a fire kin- 
dled for that purpose in Market square. 


Though years had elapsed, the mal- 
contents of the parish had not buried 
their discontent. Parson Woods had 

failed to gain either their approval or 
regard. A printed sermon in which 
''bawdy French fashions" were se- 
vere 1}' denounced had given umbrage 
to a large number of the young people, 
who declared that the language used in 
this public reprimand was more inde- 
cent than any thing they had ever dis- 
plaA'ed in dress or manner. The cler- 
gyman had become noted for a too 
large development of the organ of ac- 
quisitiveness ; he was accused of ef- 
forts to serve mammon as well as the 
Lord. In families where the pastor 
was held in high regard by the mistress 
of the mansion complaints were often 
made by the other members of an un- 
due generosity- towards the household 
at the parsonage. I had a 3'ouug 
friend whose residence was near, and 
she declared she could never have a 
fresh egg to make cake, and that her 
mother really denied herself necessa- 
ries to suppl}- the minister with luxu- 
ries. A story flew like wildfire over 
the parish, to the effect that Parson 
Woods had made several calls one af- 
ternoon, and at each place asked for a 
small piece of cheese, as Mrs. Woods 
had company from out of town ; that 
at each house he had been presented 
with a whole cheese, and that after the 
last visit, as he drove from the door, 
his sleigh tipped upon a drift, when lo ! 
nine cheeses rolled from beneath the 
checked coverlet which served as a 
sleigh robe. Another subject of ef- 
front was the sale of turkeys presented 
at Thanksgiving. This autumn the 
minister declared he could not afford 
to keep a horse ! At the announcement 
Mr. Josiah Bartlett, Mr. Joseph New- 
ell and Mr. Paul Bailey each sent him 
a ton of hay, but in a short time both 
the horse and the hay were sold. The 



next complaint was a lack of fuel. 
The usual quantities which had sup- 
plied his predecessors was said to be 
insufficient ; consequently two addi- 
tional loads were draAvn. Lieut. Jo- 
seph Noyes, an old revolutionary offi- 
cer, was employed to saw and split the 
wood. The morning that he com- 
menced work Parson Woods went into 
the yard, and after looking over the 
pile he said, "Lieutenant, here are 
some nice logs, too good for fire- wood, 
it would be a pity to burn them ; here 
are three or four just right for trunnels, 
put them aside, they are too nice for 

The lieutenant made no exact reply, 
but as soon as the minister's back was 
turned, he fell to work with might and 
main on those identical logs. After 
dinner the parson again came out. Gaz- 
ing hurriedly about, he excitedly ex- 
claimed, "Where are those logs, .those 
nice trunnell logs that i told you to 
save ? " 

" Save?" queried the wily old officer, 
with an air of bewilderment. 

"Yes, I told 3'ou to put them aside, 
that they were too good for fire- wood." 

"Well, realty now ! Sometimes I'm 
a little hard o' hearing, parson. 1 
thought you told me to split them fine 
logs fust," innocently returned the un- 
truthful old sinner, with a deprecatory 

"Well, well," said the pastor, "I 
am sorry, but it cannot lie helped now. 
I was not aware that 3*011 were deaf, 
lieutenant, is that the cause of 3-0111- ab- 
sence from divine worship?" 

"Why yes, I used to go regerlarly 
when a 3 r oungster, but going into the 
army upsets people. War is a glorious 
thing when one is fighting for one's lib- 
erties, but it kind of onsettles a fellow. 

I've had so many bullets whistling 
round my ears, that half the time it 
seems as if I couldn't hear anything 

"If you cannot hear, come and sit in 
the pulpit ; I should be most happy to 
have 3*ou," the parson replied in his 
most polite manner, as he turned to re- 
enter the house, 

As the Lieutenant had said, the war 
did unsettle a great many. Good offi- 
cers made but poor civilians. Lieut. 
Xo3"es would not have deliberately per- 
formed a bad deed, but his moral sense 
had become somewhat stretched, and a 
good joke was the very breath in his 
nostrils. Though since the end of the 
war he had led somewhat of a desulto- 
ry life, he always managed to dress 
and appear like a gentleman. The. 
next Sunday, to the wonder and con- 
sternation of the congregation, just 
after Parson Woods had taken his 
place in the pulpit, the lieutenant, in 
his best suit, his hair elaborate^* frizz- 
ed, powdered and cued, marched up 
the broad aisle with his most imposing 
tread, and slowly ascended the pulpit 
stairs. With a profound military sa- 
lute he seated himself beside the par- 
son. "What could it mean,?" The 
amazement increased, when, as the 
clerg3 r man rose to begin the service, 
the lieutenant rose also ; standing a 
little back with his head slightly in- 
clined forward, and his hand behind 
his ear, he continued to occupy his 
post beside the pastor through 
the long prayer and the longer ser- 
mon. As every one knew the old 
scamp was not the least deaf, they be- 
gan to surmise that some mischief was 
on foot, but ' k what was the mystery?" 
After two or three Sabbaths, in which 
the pranky old officer, with the gravity 



of forty judges, occupied a place in 
the pulpit, the story of the trunnel 
logs became whispered about, and his 
presence there caused such a sensation 
that the tithing man was compelled to 
give him a seat on the long bench in 
front. Aunt Ruth Little and others 
declared some judgment must fall on 
the reprobate ; but, notwithstanding 
these menaces, he went on his wa}' re- 
joicing, getting more treats than ever 
at the tavern, and a more hearty wel- 
come to good cheer throughout the vi- 

Parson Wood's friends were zealous 
in his defence. "A minister had wants 
of which the common people knew noth- 
ing ; he had more calls for money. He 
was a blessed man, a learned man ; his 
thoughts soared above those of the mul- 
titude, they ought not to be lowered 
by petty cares and the many annoyan- 
ces of this sublunary existence." 

Mrs. Woods' bridal cloak, of white 
satin, had become somewhat defaced, 
and a subscription paper was put in 
circulation the first of the winter to 
obtain a sum to purchase black satin 
for another. This gave cause for much 
remark. It was averred that many 
gave who could ill afford the outlay ; 
some from a naturally generous im- 
pulse, but more from a false pride that 
would not permit them to omit cop}*ing 
the example of their more wealthy 
neighbors. Right or wrong, the sub- 
scription was made, and a sufficient 
amount obtained to purchase the satin 
and a handsome sable muff and tippet. 
The cloak, an elegant one, trimmed 
with rich lace, was made by a commit- 
tee of ladies chosen for that purpose, 
at the residence of aunt Ruth Little, 
and on New Year the articles were pre- 
sented in due form. 

A Baptist society had been estab- 
lished in New Rowley. Mrs. Mollie 
Little, uncle Enoch Little's wife, had 
been a communicant of this church 
previous to her marriage, and Mr. Lit- 
tle had accompanied his wife to this 
ministration. Finding so much divis- 
ion in our parish, the Baptists organ- 
ized a series of prayer and conference 
meetings, which were held at Mr. Lit- 
tle's house. My uncle Parker Smith's 
family also attended the Baptist meet- 
ings, and my two cousins, Hannah and 
Nabb} r Smith, girls a few years my se- 
nior, frequently came to attend the 
meetings ; I accompanied them a few 
times, but the odd phraseology of some 
of the speakers illiterate persons but 
full of zeal, coupled with the still 
more singularly expressed experiences, 
which were nightty related, worked so 
strongly on my risibles, that it was 
difficult for me to maintain a proper 
decorum. Much to the horror of my 
cousins, that which sent the tears roll- 
ing down my cheeks, instead of bring- 
ing any sanctifying convictions, merely 
set me into hysterics from suppressed 
merriment, and mother declared " I 
was bad enough anyway, and that she 
would not have me made worse by at- 
tendance at these Baptist gatherings." 
During the previous summer, one hot 
afternoon, aunt Sarah ran down stairs 
with the somewhat startling announce- 
ment that ' ' Brother Sam, in his best 
suit, with saddle-bags across the sad- 
dle, was coming on horse-back up the 
lane." We could scarcely believe she 
had seen aright. Looking out, we 
found it was no hallucination, but that 
Uncle Sam, in the flesh, was leading 
his horse into the stable. What could 
it mean ? What could have called him 
from home just in the midst of the 



English hay season ? To the eager in- 
quiries made on his entrance, he replied 
in his most imposing style, that he had 
been to Lynn to be ordained, that now 
he was a licensed preacher of the Meth- 
odist persuasion. Grandmam' groaned 
over her son's infatuation, and aunt 
Sarah worried about his grass. ''To 
think of his leaving his farm then ! If 
he must be ordained, why couldn't he 
have waited for winter when he could 
be spared." Father laughed ; "he had 
always said Sam never would labor, 
and he should prove a true prophet." 
Lifted into a sphere above minor earth- 
ly affairs, the gentleman departed for 
his home on the morrow, wholly obliv- 
ious to the prognostications of evil 
from his course which burthened the 
minds of his family and friends. 

The interest in the Baptist meetings 
was increasing, when uncle Sam made 
us his annual winter visit. As soon as 
his arrival became known he received a 
pressing invitation to preach at Mr. 
Little's Sunday evening, which was ac- 
cepted with evident gratification. He 
somewhat amused the family by his so- 
licitude respecting his dress. As it 
was cold weather, and he had not ex- 
pected to preach, he had come unpro- 
vided with a white necktie. A loan of 
one was solicited, "as it looked more 
clerical." Father laughingly told his 
brother, as he handed him the handker- 
chief, ' ' he saw that he yet retained a 
piece of the old Adam." Aunt Sarah 
contemptuously averred, " that he did 
not live up to his creed "every earth- 
ly pomp and vanity ought to be re- 
nounced ; " but grandmam' declared 
she was "glad to see that Sam had 
some idea of the fitness of things ; if 
he must preach Methody, it pleased 
her to know that he wished to look and 

appear like a gentleman, and did not 
turn himself into an itinerant ranter." 

The tidings that Mr. Sam Smith was 
o expound the novel doctrines of Meth- 
odism had called together a crowd, and 
the ground rooms of the large house 
were full. After the reading of a por- 
tion of the Scripture came a prayer in 
the usual fervent style ; a hymn having 
been, sung the text was named Eze- 
kiel 7th chap., 7th verse : " The morn- 
ing is come upon thee, O thou that 
dwellest in the land." From these 
words a powerful discourse in elucida- 
tion of the tenets of the new sect was 
delivered. The speaker had found his 
vocation ; he possessed the gift to en- 
chain an audience, and he held this 
promiscuous assembly in rapt attention 
for over an hour. At the close of the 
sermon up jumped Mr. Silas Moulton, 
then one of Parson Woods' recent con- 
verts, and in a fiery, " Hopkinsonian " 
prayer, each one of Mr. Smith's doc- 
trinal points was contra verted. This 
brought on an ardent discussion. The 
hour grew late ; Aunt Enoch Smith 
and myself essayed to make our exit 
by the back door. The eager and ex- 
cited throng barred our progress. Da- 
vid Emery, now a tall youth of seven- 
teen, aided our efforts by raising a 
couple of chairs above his head, when 
we managed to squeeze out. The 
night air was refreshing. One after 
another the members of the family 
came home, but it was after eleven 
when father and uncle Sam arrived. 
The preacher was completely exhaust- 
ed. Family prayer was omitted, and 
aunt Sarah filled the long-handled 
warming-pan with bright coals, declar- 
ing as she went to warm the bed, ' 'that if 
it was her brother, she must say he 
was great for argufying, and he had 



beat Silas Moulton out and out." 
The morrow brought a severe snow 
storm, which blocked the road to an 
unusual degree. In the midst of this 
storm, much to our astonishment, Mr. 
Joseph Ames, one of the chief Baptist 
speakers, came in. He had walked 
the whole distance from Bradford in 
that storm to converse with uncle Sam. 
I became so tired of this discussion, 
of hearing the changes rung and re- 
rung upon the conflicting themes, that 
I kindled a rousing fire in aunt Sarah's 
chamber, and there sought a respite 
from the sound of human tongues, and 
the quiet requisite to an aching head . 


The predictions of evil made at the 
union of Robert Adams and Susan 
Little had been fully realized. Con- 
sanguinity, however, could not be as- 
signed as a cause, but a tendency to 
consumption, inherited from his father 
in the bridegroom. Soon after his 
marriage Mr. Adams had an attack of 
hemorrhage of the lungs ; the next 
summer he rallied and hopes were en- 
tertained of his recovery, but the 
bleeding recommenced, and after a 
season of prostration and suffering, he 
passed awa}% some two months prior 
to the third anniversary of his marri- 
age. One infant had gone before its 
father, and a second, born after his 
decease, only entered this world to 
pass to another. 

Aunt Sukey, completely crushed, 
was thus left alone, the care of a farm 
devolving upon her. My cousin Xab- 

by Smith had been with Mrs. Adams 
during her husband's illness, and it 
was decided she should remain. Uncle 
William Little sold the farm he had re- 
cently purchased in Haverhill, and 
came to take charge of his sister and 
her estate. In March aunt Hannah 
Little was married to Mr. James Stick - 
ney. a young man who had for some 
time resided with the brothers and sis- 
ters Dole. A handsome, energetic 
youth, he had won the regard of the 
lone bachelors and maids, and they 
highly favored his match with Hannah 
Little, and had fitted apartments for 
the young couple in their large house. 

The snow which had fallen during 
uncle Sam's visit still covered the 
ground. On the morning of the eigh- 
teenth, father and I rode directly over 
the stone wall dividing the field from 
the street, on our wa}- to grandsir Lit- 
tle's, but in half an hour the water 
poured in a perfect torrent down the 
hill, the brook rose in an unexampled 
manner, and tin- reads became nearly 
impassable. The wedding was appoint- 
ed at eight o'clock Only the family 
and nearest relatives had been invited, 
and it was with extreme difficulty that 
the}' reached the hon>--. Mr. Stick- 
ney came in looking unusually pale 
and complaining of a lameness in the 
back, caused by a fall the day previ- 
ous. The ladder had slipped as he 
was descending from the hay-mow, and 
he fell with great force directly across 
the machine for breaking flax. The 
sorrow and concern felt at this accident 
was expressed', but no one entertained 
the slightest idea that any serious con- 
sequences would ensue, or that it would 
entail any lasting effect. Parson 
Woods having sold his horse walked 
over from the main road. His feet 



were thorough!}- saturated. Dry hose 
and slippers were furnished, and 
grandmam' bade me bring the minister 
a glass of wine, as a preventative 
against taking cold, but the clerg3*man 
said : " if it was just as convenient he 
would prefer a little rum and molasses." 
The toddy having been furnished, the 
company repaired to the parlor. Aunt 
Hannah looked lovely in a white jaconte 
muslin ; you would have to go a long 
way. as aunt Judy Dole said, to see a 
handsomer couple. Travelling was so 
difficult, the company dispersed at an 
early hour. The bride and groom re- 
mained at grandsir's till the next day. 
Aunt Sukey and Nabbj- Smith essayed 
to walk the distance home, but were 
obliged to return and don each a pair 
of men's boots, in order to pass the 
bridge over the brook, and the next 
day, when uncle Stickney took his wife 
and nvyself home, we were obliged to 
scramble upon the sleigh seat, the water 
poured so over the sides of the large, 
high-backed sleigh. 

The previous } r ear had been a sad 
one to our family, and farther calamity 
was in .store. In April, uncle William 
Little's only child, a promising lad of 
five j-ears, died suddenly of croup. 
This was a severe affliction to the 
parents ; the father for a time was 
nearly frantic. The first shock of the 
loss had scarcely passed, when David 
Eaton, one of Uncle Bill's apprentices 
was taken sick with the measles. None 
of the family had had the distemper, 
every one caught it. Aunt Sukey and 
Nabby Smith were sick at the same 
time, and, as I had had the measles, I 
was obliged to act as nurse. My pa- 
tients were quite sick, Nabby was in- 
sane for twenty-four hours. Uncle 
Bill's family were all ill one after anoth- 

er. Aunt Little was very sick, fever 
set in and for several days she was not 
expected to live. Naturally a delicate 
woman, it took a long while for nature 
to rally, and she remained an invalid 
through the summer. Just as Aunt 
Little's fever was at its height, the 
news came that Aunt Bartlett was dan- 
gerously sick. Grandmam' Little and 
my mother hurried to town, but, under 
Divine Providence, with good nursing, 
her life was spared. 

Uncle Stickney had not recovered 
from the effects of his fall, as had been 
anticipated. He took cold while fish- 
ing ; a cough came on, and, instead of 
gaining health as the warm weather ad- 
vanced, day by day he lost both flesh 
and vigor. Help was hired to do his 
work upon the farm, and the most se- 
rious apprehensions began to be enter- 

With my multifarious duties, I had 
contrived to plait a new straw bonnet 
for myself. Aunt Sarah assisted me 
to make common hats for father and the 
boys. We also fashioned a cunning 
bonnet for my little sister Susan to wear 
upon her first advent at meeting. Upon 
sight of this head gear, little Joe de- 
manded a Sunday straw hat. Aunt 
Sarah said that was a good idea. I 
plaited a fine braid ; the hat was made 
and lined with green silk. Jim thought 
he should like one, only the braid might 
be coarser. When father saw this hat. 
he asked us to make one for him, the 
light hat was ' ' so comfortable in warm 
weather." The gentlemen and }-outh 
of the neighborhood and vicinity, see- 
ing and liking these hats, came to so- 
licit us to braid some for them. In a 
short time quite a lucrative business 
was established. In the midst of the 
hurry, one of our cousins, Patty Noyes, 



came in, to beg us to braid her a bon- 
net; she "must have one for the very 
next Sunday." "That is an impossi- 
bility." "Then sew one from this!" 
she exclaimed, seizing a roll of the hat 
braid. ' ' That is too coarse." ' ' That 
is a matter of taste," she returned ; 
"if I have a coarse straw it may set 
the fashion. Just sew the braid as I 

Remonstrance was useless. The bon- 
net was sewed. It looked very well, 
and when trimmed was really pretty. 
Patty's joke proved a prophecy, she 
did set a fashion. Orders came for 
several similar bonnets. This extra 
straw work brought a great hurry in 
the autumn. I was looking forward 
to a little more leisure in the winter 
weather, when I was summoned to the 
Dole place, where with slight intervals 
I remained for several months. Our 
worst fears were realized. Uncle Stick- 
ney was in a confirmed consumption. 
Aunt Hannah, feeble from a recent 
confinement, and worn down by anxie- 
ty, watching, and the care of a sickly, 
puny babe, needed my assistance. The 
last of December the feeble, wailing in- 
fant passed from our tearful care to 
the arms of the heavenly angels. This 
was m}' first experience of the death 
of a babe, and under the circumstan- 
ces I felt that it was not a subject for 
grief, but a beneficent event to both 
mother and child. Aunt Hannah seem- 
ed stunned. She moved about her hus- 
band's death-bed like one in a trance. 
The brothers and sisters Dole were agon- 
ized at the thought of the loss of their 
adopted son ; they could not be talked 
or prayed into submission. "It was 
hard ; oh, so hard, to see that strong, 
handsome form so fast succumbing to dis- 
ease." Robert Adams had always been 

delicate ; his illness was more gradual ; 
sad as it was it did not seem so heart- 
rending as this. Assistance and sym- 
pathy were tendered from all quarters, 
still it was a dark, dark time ! Aunt 
Sukey, naturally of a less buoyant tem- 
perament than her sisters, sank into a 
morbid melancholy, distressing herself 
with doubts of her late husband's state 
in the other world, as he had made no 
death-bed confession. Uncle Sam 
Smith's visit brought comfort and hope. 
He cheered aunt Sukey and brought a 
peaceful submission to the death-strick- 
en household of our neighbors. We 
began to feel that, though he might not 
attain to a great worldly wealth, he 
possessed that pearl of great price, 
that true riches, before which mere 
earthly treasures sink into insignifi- 

In April, Uncle Stickney left us. 
His exit had been calm and hopeful. 
A degree of submission had been at- 
tained by those nearest and dearest, 
and Aunt Hannah returned to the old 
life, (yet, alas ! how sadly different) , in 
the paternal home, bereft of both hus- 
band and child in little over one short 
year, a childless widow ere she had 
reached the age of twenty-one. 



A quantity of straw had been stored 
the summer before ; this spring, orders 
for bonnets and hats came as fast as 
the}" could be filled. 

As I have stated, Uncle Thurrel's 
only daughter had married Mr. Jona- 
than Smith, the son of the Rev. Dr. 
Smith, the first Baptist clergyman in 



Haverhill. Mr. Smith kept a store in 
that town. Straw bonnets were be- 
coming so fashionable, Mrs. Smith con- 
ceived the idea of our supplying the 
sale at her husband's establishment. 
Hitherto our bonnets had remained the 
natural color of the straw. Straw 
work had been commenced in Provi- 
dence, and through some relatives there, 
Mrs. Smith learned the process of 
bleaching. We were greatly pleased to 
become initiated into the mystery, and 
with her native ingenuity, Aunt Sarah 
contrived a bleacher}*. Holes were 
bored in the head of a barrel, strings 
were attached to the bonnets and passed 
up through the apertures, which were 
then plugged with wooden spiles ; sul- 
phur sprinkled over embers put in the 
dish of a foot-stove was placed be- 
neath ; the whole being tightened by an 
old quilt, not a fume escaped, and the 
bonnets came forth as white as the im- 
ported. To this period the braid had 
been plaited from whole straw; this 
year the split straws began to come, 
and Aunt Sarah finding that she could 
split straw with a coarse comb, conclu- 
ded to have some combs made for the 
purpose. Comb making had been an 
industry of the town since its first set- 
tlement. Mr. Enoch Noyes, my grand- 
mother Smith's nephew, had become 
noted for the manufacture of combs 
and horn buttons. He was a great ge- 
nius, had contrived many inventions 
and made much improvement in the 
business. During the Revolutionary 
war, a Hessian deserter, an adept in 
the craft, had chanced to drift into the 
place and was at once employed by Mr. 
Noyes, much to the advantage of the 
trade, which immediately increased in 
extent and importance. Mr. No} r es 
was a great oddity. He would run 

half over the parish bareheaded and 
barefooted. It was no uncommon 
thing for him to appear at our house, 
after 'dinner of a hot summer day, in 
only a shirt and breeches, having run 
across the fields two miles, "jest to 
take a nooning." A great joker and a 
capital story-teller, his appearance was 
the signal for a general frolic. He was 
fond of telling strangers that his father 
used to say he had "four remarkable 
children : Molly was remarkably hand- 
some, Tim was a remarkable sloven, 
John was remarkably wicked, and 
Enoch was remarkably cunning." To 
this gentleman aunt Sarah applied. As 
might have been expected, he entered 
into the business with characteristic 
zest, and in a short time we were sup- 
plied with half a dozen different-sized 
straw splitters. 

Mrs. Smith, having cut a tin}" piece 
of trimming from an imported bon- 
net, brought it for me to imitate. 
How vividly I recall the two long hours 
which I passed, sitting on the chamber 
floor surrounded by the litter of straw, 
patiently weaving and unweaving until 
the secret 'was obtained. Having ac- 
quired this ornamental cue, I invented 
several other decorations with which to 
finish the edge of the bonnets. I also 
learned to make straw plumes and tas- 
sels from examining those on the for- 
eign bonnets. Miss Mar}- Perkins kept 
a fashionable millinery establishment 
in Newburyport. Hearing of our straw 
manufacture she rode up to see us and 
immediately ordered bonnets. After a 
time the plain straw became supersed- 
ed by diamond and other fancy plaits. 
These being the ton, Miss Jenkins also 
purloined a bit from the inside of a 
diamond satin straw, and brought it as 
a pattern of a braid. It looked so in- 



tricate I nearly despaired of 1113- ability^ 
to copy it, but Miss Jenkins would 
not permit me to demur, and as every 
one spoke encouragingby I made the 
effort, and in two or three hours ac- 
complished the task. This was a time- 
ly achievement ; our bonnets were in 
great demand, and we continued the 
business through the warm season for 
several 3'ears until the establishment of 
straw factories and ury approaching 
marriage curtailed the work ; but aunt 
Sarah continued to braid men's hats 
and supply her friends' bonnets for a 
long time. 

The year I was seven years old the 
first incorporated woolen mill in Mas- 
sachusetts was established at the falls 
on the river Parker, in the Parish of 
Byfield in Newbury. The machinery 
for this factory was made in Xewbury- 
port by Messrs. Standring, Armstrong 
& Guppy, agents ; the Messrs. Schol- 
field and most of the operatives were 
English. The erection of this mill cre- 
ated a great sensation throughout the 
whole region. People visited it from 
far and near. Ten cents was charged 
as an admittance fee. That first win- 
ter sleighing parties came from all the 
adjacent towns, and as distant as 
Hampstead and Deny, in New Hamp- 
shire. Row after row of sleighs passed 
over Crane-neck hill, enlivening the 
bright, cold days by the joyous tones 
of their merry bells. Never shall I 
forget the awe with which I entered 
what then appeared the vast and im- 
posing edifice. The huge drums that 
carried the bands on the lower floor, 
coupled with the novel noise and hum 
increased this awe ; but when I reached 
the second floor where picking, card- 
ing, spinning and weaving were in pro- 
gress my amazement became complete. 

The machinery, with the exception of 
the looms, was driven by water pow- 
er, the weaving was by hand. Most 
of the operatives were males, a few 
young girls being employed in splicing 

In a few years the first company was 
dissolved, and the mill passed into oth- 
er hands. The Scholfields were suc- 
ceeded by Messrs. Lees & Ta^'lor. 
These gentlemen were also English. 
New machinery imported from Eng- 
land for the manufacture of cotton 
goods was put in. Mr. Ta}'lor soon 
left, but Mr. Lees continued to operate 
the mill for several years. The estab- 
lishment of this factory brought quite 
a revolution in the domestic manufac- 
tures of the neighborhood. For some 
time previous, in most families hand 
carding had been discontinued, the 
wool having been sent to be converted 
into rolls to the clothier mills of Mr. 
Ben. Pearson or Mr. Samuel Dummer. 
Lees & Ta3'lor made arrangements b3" 
which this famuy carding could be done 
at their factoty both cheaper and better 
than at the smaller mills. The intro- 
duction of cotton opened a new channel 
of industry. The weaving was still 
performed by hand ; as the business 
increased this loom power was not suf- 
ficient to supply the demand for cloths. 
Their goods consisted of heaAy tick- 
ings and a lighter cloth of blue and 
white striped or checked, suitable for 
men's and boys' summer wear, aprons, 
&c. The tickings were woven b3 r men 
on the looms at the factory, but much 
of the lighter stuffs were taken into 
families and woven on the common 
house loom. The 3-arns were spun and 
dyed at the factory; these could be 
purchased there, and in lieu of the 
hitherto universal linen and tow, cotton 



began to be mixed with flax or woven 
alone. Quite fine cotton fabrics were 
woven ; bleached they looked very nice. 
Stamps on blocks of wood had been 
invented, and with home-made dyes, 
calico was stamped. These chintzes 
were held in high estimation and many 
' go-to-meeting gowns" were construct- 
of them, pieces of which have been 
handed down, to be cherished as inesti- 
mable relics of a former generation. 
This cotton spinning brought a new oc- 
cupation to the place. Being prior to 
Whitney's invention of the cotton gin, 
the material came just as it had been 
gathered from the field, and many of 
the females in the neighborhood of the 
factory were employed to separate the 
seed from the cotton. For years one 
rarely entered a farm house in the 
vicinity without finding one or more of 
the inmates busy picking cotton. 

A short time prior to the erection- of 
the Byfield factory, Jacob Perkins, the 
distinguished inventor and the first en- 
graver of bank bills, completed the 
construction of his first machine for 
cutting nails. Hitherto every nail in 
use had been wrought by hand, and 
this machine became immediately an 
object of interest, as the community at 
once perceived its value, and justly 
took pride in their gifted townsman. 
Mr. Perkins having hired the old mill 
house of Capt. Paul Moody in Byfield, 
commenced business on the same dam 
as the Factory. This nail factory con- 
tinued in operation some years, then, 
as Amesbury presented greater facili- 
ties for their manufacture, the business 
was moved to that town. Mr. Perkins 
discovered a process for plating shoe 
buckles, then universally worn ; he 
made improvements in fire engines and 
hydraulic machines, and machines for 

boring honey-combed cannon. He was 
also the most skilful pyrotechnist in the 
county. He also discovered a method 
of softening and hardening steel, by 
which the process of engravings was 
greatly facilitated. The Bank of Eng- 
land adopted it for their plates. He 
invented the bathometer, an instrument 
for measuring the depth of the sea by 
the pressure of water ; and the pleo- 
meter, which measured the rate of a 
ship's sailing. He also demonstrated 
the impressibility of water. Later in 
life he went to London, where his ex- 
periments on high pressure steam ma- 
chinery attracted much attention. He 
contrived a steam gun which could dis- 
charge about a thousand balls a min- 
ute. Experiments with this gun at- 
tracted the attention of the Duke of 
Wellington and other distinguished mil- 
itary men. These inventions enriched 
others, but Mr. Perkins died in Lon- 
don in 1840 without the fortune tr 
which, by his labors he was justly enti- 

Mr. Eben Parsons, _ one of the sons 
of the Rev. Moses Parsons, the second 
pastor of the church in B} T field parish, 
then an eminent merchant in Boston, 
had purchased an estate contiguous to 
the parsonage, where he had been born 
and bred. Neither expense or labor 
had been spared in improving and or- 
namenting the grounds and garden of 
this place, which its owner called the 
" Fatherland Farm." Now prepara- 
tion commenced for the erection of a 
spacious mansion. Raisings at that 
period were universally a social festi- 
val, and this, from the superiority of 
the building, the elegance of its sur- 
roundings, and position of its owner, 
became an extraordinary fete. Pre- 
parations for the occasion were made 



upon a scale of unusual magnificence. 
It was arranged that the Rev. Dr. Par- 
ish should deliver an address, and a 
consecrating hymn should be sung. 
The choir in our parish were in Anted to 
join that in Byfield in singing this 
hymn. As the female singers were to 
be habited in a uniform of white mus- 
lin and bine satin, there was a great 
stir of preparation, and the whole com- 
munity was roused into a perfect tip- 
toe of expectancy. The important 
day at length arrived. Crowds in car- 
riages, on horseback and on foot 
thronged to the raising, which w;i- cur- 
ly in the afternoon. Deft hands splen- 
didly did the work : the stout timbers 
of the spacious building were securely 
upreared ; then the master builder, Mr. 
Stephen Tappan of Xewburyport. ap- 
peared on the summit, bottle in hand. 
Amid profound silence, for a moment 
he poised himself aloft, then swinging 
the bottle above his head, with a cheer 
which was caught up and iterated and 
reiterated by the multitude, the new 
roof-tree was duly baptized in pure old 
Jamaica. The deafening cheers ended, 
a platform was arranged over a part of 
the floor timbers, to which mounted the 
orator, singers and most noted guests. 
The eloquent divine, inspired by the 
scene and hour, did himself more than 
justice, holding his entranced audience 
in breathless attention for nearly an 
hour by a perfect rush of eloquence. 
Next the orchestra took their places. 
A goodlie company, those stalwart 
youths and buxom maidens. The bass- 
viol struck the tune, and the united 
voices floated forth on the still summer 
air, and sang 

" If God refuse the house to build 
The workmen toil in vain.*' 

A tremendous crash at this point 

drowned the last note, and amid 
screams, cries and shouts the crowd 
upon the platform were hurled into the 
cellar beneath, amidst earth, rubbish 
and broken boards. For a moment 
there was the wildest terror and confu- 
sion. It was some time ere the sem- 
blance of order could be restored, or 
the extent of injury ascertained. Hap- 
pily no bones were broken, but there 
were numerous sprains and contusions. 
The white muslins were sadly rent and 
torn, but after repairing damages a de- 
gree of equanimity was restored and 
the sumptuous entertainment was serv- 
ed. This was followed by various 
pastimes, wrestling, running and oth- 
er athletic sports. It was dark before 
the crowd dispersed, and the great 
raising formed a topic of conversation 
for months. Most dire calamities were 
prognosticated from the accident, by 
the- superstitious. Fatal prophecies 
foredooming the future of the family at 
" Fatherland mansion." 

Aunt Judy Dole was vehement in 
her diatribes. A nephew, Mr. Benja- 
min Wadleigh, who had taken the place 
of the late James Stickney in the 
household, received a severe sprain in 
his shoulder, which incapacitated him 
from labor for some time. "And serv- 
ed him right," the old woman exclaim- 
ed in her most oracular manner. "He'd 
better have staid at home and minded 
his business than hyty-titying over to 
Byfield to sing psalm tunes at such a 
frolic, and to that great popish stringed 
instrument of Baal, too. Sposin' old 
parson Moses Parsons' son was gwiue 
to build a house ; because it was bigger 
than common he needn't make such a 
fuss, other folks had built big houses. 
The saying was, destruction went afore 
a fall ; she guessed destruction would 



come arter, this time. She hoped it 
would 1'arn the young folks sense, 
show 'em taint all gold that glittered." 


Turnpikes were superseding the 
common roads on the more important 
routes of travel, and one was projected 
between Newburyport and Boston. A 
company was formed, the shares sold 
and the work commenced. The con- 
struction of this road caused consider- 
ble excitement in the communfty. 
Most were enthusiastic in its favor, 
while others thought the additional con- 
venience insufficient to repay such an 
outlay. As several of our family were 
stockholders, and David Emery assisted 
on the survey, we were especially in- 
terested. David often passed the Sab- 
bath at his grandfather Little's, and he 
usually dropped in to talk over the 
work with father. He disapproved of 
the plan of the road thought it would 
have been better to have built it to Sa- 
lem, to connect with that from Salem 
to Boston. Then he did not favor an 
exactly straight thoroughfare if it must 
be carried over wide morasses and such 
lofty eminences as the Topsfield hills. 
Though then a mere youth, I think the 
verdict of posterity would endorse the 
young man's ideas. Through the un- 
counted multitude of obstacles that 
usually arise to impede a public work, 
the road was steadily pushed with re- 
markable energy. Huge hotels and 
spacious stables were erected at points 
convenient for relays, and every then 
modern improvement made for the ac- 
commodation of travel. At the time 

of my first visit to town only one stage 
plied on alternate days between New- 
bun port and the capital going one 
morning and returning the next after- 
noon. I well remember my first sight 
of a stage and the delight with which 
I gazed at the huge leathern convey- 
ance, with its gaudily emblazoned yel- 
low body and the four prancing white 
steeds. Soon after rela} r s were estab- 
lished and the stage went out and re- 
turned each day. As the travel in- 
creased teams were added and the 
Eastern Stage Company was formed. 

On account of ill health, Col. Stephen 
Bartlett had severed his connection with 
the firm of Peabody & Waterman. 
Confirmed consumptionjiad been feared 
but after a winter passed in Charleston, 
S. C., Col. Bartlett returned with in- 
creased vigor. Active occupation was 
recommended. The stage company 
were seeking an agent. The position 
was offered to Mr. Bartlett, and he im- 
mediately entered upon its duties. This 
appointment was eminently appropriate, 
and the gentleman remained in the em- 
ploy of the compaivy until obliged to 
surrender to the ravages of the fell dis- 
ease which at last claimed him as its 
victim. One afternoon, the summer I 
was sixteen, I rode into town and had 
just entered aunt Bartlett's parlor when 
uncle Bartlett drove to the door, on the 
box of a hack in which were seated my 
aunt Peabody and cousin Sophronia. 
Reining up his pair of spanking bays 
before the open window, he greet- 
ed me : "I am glad to see you, Sally. 
Put on your bonnet and tell your aunt 
to don hers, and I will give you a ride 
with Mrs. Peabody and Fronie. The 
turnpike is graded to the third mile- 
stone, and I intend that you shall have 
the honor of being the first ladies to 



pass over it." Of course I was high- 
ly delighted. We were soon seated. 
My aunts and cousin were in high 
spirits, and altogether it was a very 
merry time. There was a little stir of 
enthusiasm amid the group lingering 
about the steps of the "Wolfe Tavern," 
and we received many polite greetings 
as we drove forward. It was rather 
soft wheeling over the freshly-strewn 
gravel, but that did not signify ; our 
horses were young and strong, their 
load light, and we dashed forward in 
fine style. The third milestone soon 
appeared. After a slight pause to look 
around, we retraced our steps and 
alighted at aunt Bartlett's, proud of the 
achievement of being able to boast that 
we were the first ladies to ride over the 
Newburyport and Boston turnpike. 

The next year I had another ride 
with my uncle. The Plum Island 
bridge and turnpike had been built the 
previous summer. I was making my 
annual winter visit in town. That da}' 
I had dined at my uncle Peabod3*'s, and 
we were rising from the table, when 
uncle Bartlett drove to the door in a 
double sleigh, to which was attached a 
splendid span of white horses. He 
was accompanied by Capt. Stoodle}-, a 
brother of Mrs. William Bartlett, jr., of 
Portsmouth, N. H. Throwing him the 
reins, uncle Bartlett ran in, exclaiming : 
" Come, girls ; I have a pair of horses 
that I wish to prove, and I will give 
you a ride. Wrap up well, fo/ it is a 
snapping cold day." Aunt Peabody 
told us to hasten. "Put on all your 
furs," she added, as she filled a stove 
for our feet. We were quickly en- 
sconced on the back seat, well wrapped 
in buffaloes. Uncle Bartlett turned his 
horses toward Plum Island. There was 
not much path, but the powerful steeds 

dashed lightly along. We had pro- 
ceeded to the entrance to the bridge. 
when our further progress was stopped 
by a huge snow drift. With some diffi- 
culty our experienced whip turned his 
team. Proceeding in the direction of 
' ' High street " we soon reached that 
well-trodden thoroughfare. Though 
much more sparsely built than now, it 
was a handsome avenue and a pleasant 

In my childhood Frog pond was the 
center of a tangled wilderness of alder 
and other bushes, and at the upper end 
there was a frightful ravine. Near this 
gully stood the gun house, where the 
cannon belonging to the artillery corn- 
pan}' was kept. Back on the heights 
stood an ancient windmill. Below, near 
the margin of the pond, stretched a 
long rope walk. This was removed to 
give place for the commencement of the 
turnpike. Back of the pond was lo- 
cated quite an extensive potteiy for the 
manufacture of brown glazed earthern 
ware. In the year commencing the 
present century the streets of the town 
received much improvement, and in the 
summer of that year the gulley at the 
head of Green street was filled up, and 
the mall was laid out, graded and railed. 
Capt. Edmund Bartlett gave fourteen 
hundred dollars towards this public im- 
provement, which cost about eighteen 
hundred. In honor of this munificence, 
the park received the name of ' Bartlett 

In the summer of 1805 the Court 
house was erected. The building was 
ornamented by the figure of Justice 
holding a scale and sword, which sur- 
mounted the pedestal. St. Paul's 
Church was built that same year, and 
within a short period several handsome 
private residences had also been erect- 



ed, adding much to the beauty of the 
street. Dexter had increased his im- 
ages ; his plan was in full glory ; Sen- 
tinals mounted guard. Jefferson had 
joined Washington and Adams over the 
front entrance. Beneath the Presi- 
dents was a bass-relief of the Goddess 
of Liberty. An half hour's ride 
brought us to Parsons' tavern on Deer 
island, at the Essex Merrimac bridge. 
This was a noted place for pleasure 
parties. A delightful spot in summer, 
and a noted rendezvous for sleighing 
parties in winter, when a supper and 
dance were enjoyed. At the first snow 
a rush was made for Parsons', where 
the first comer was treated to a bottle 
of wine by mine host. Though our 
horses had skimmed over the snow like 
birds, the day was so intensely cold we 
were fairly benumbed, and the bright 
wood fire was exceedingly grateful. 
Capt. Stdooley, according to the custom 
of the period, politely brought my 
cousin and myself a glass of wine. 
Warmed and refreshed we retraced our 
steps, fully . satisfied with the steed, 
which Col. Bartlett immediately secur- 
ed for the " Stage Company." 

Two other memorable rides fell to 
my destiny that year. Toward spring 
father's ox-cart needed new tires. 
Much to his surprise none could be 
found in Newburyport. Some one di- 
rected him to the store of old Mr. Da- 
vid Howe, in Haverhill, where it was 
said " every merchantable article could 
be bought." As aunt Chase resided in 
Haverhill, father invited me to ride 
with him. It was a raw March morn- 
ing and the sleighing poor. Making 
our way partly in the fields and pas- 
tures, partly in the road, we reached 
" Cottle's Ferry;" there we took the 
river. The ice was strong but full of 

seams made by cracks which had been 
frozen. Our horse, a spirited mare, 
feared danger, and as she reached one 
of these seams, with a leap would 
bound over it, then proceed at a two- 
forty-pace to the next ; then came an- 
other bound, and in this way the jour- 
ney was made. 

My aunt resided in a large, old-fash- 
ioned brick mansion, picturesquely sit- 
uated on the right bank of the Merri- 
mac, about half a mile below Haver- 
hill village. The road separated it 
from the river, and in front a landing 
led directly to the house. Leaving me 
at the door father drove to the village, 
where he procured iron which he lashed 
under the sleigh. Having dined at 
Mrs. Chase's we started for home. 
The rattling of the iron started Kate 
still more, and the race was greater 
than in the morning. I never was 
more thankful than when the Ferry 
was again reached, and we were once 
more on terra firma. 

My other race was in the autumn. 
It was customary for the } r oung ladies 
of the neighborhood to give social tea 
parties of an afternoon, at which we 
assembled at an early hour, dressed in 
our best, with our go-abroad knitting 
work, usually fine cotton, clocked hose. 
Some of these clocks comprised the 
most elaborate patterns. After tea 
the knitting was laid aside. As the 
evening drew on the beaux began to 
appear, then games, or dancing, were 
enjoyed. At this period the fear of 
Parson Wood's anathema had in a 
measure passed and dancing had been 
generally resumed. We were permit- 
ted to indulge in the recreation at my 
uncle Tenney's when the deacon was 
from home. 

Mr. Benjamin Hill's son, Eliphalet, 



had become affianced to Miss Sarah 
Coffin, of "Scotland," Oldtown parish. 
The young lady had come to paj- Mr. 
Hill's family a visit, and the Misses 
Hills gave one of these tea-parties in 
her honor. Mr. Hill's residence was 
two miles from ours, and father direct- 
ed me to go in the chaise. "Liph. 
Hills will take care of your horse, Sal- 
lie, and you can take up the deacon's 
girls as }*ou go," said he, as he went 
out, after dinner. We had recently 
purchased a new ' ' fall back chaise ; " 
our old one had been a square-topped. 
I was somewhat proud of the new 
equipage, and of my spirited mare. 
Trained from infancy to ride and drive, 
I was a fearless horsewoman. Jim 
harnessed Kate, and I drove over to 
uncle Tenney's, where I was joined by 
my cousins Joan and Lydia. The' af- 
ternoon and evening were passed most 
pleasantly. I recollect leading down a 
new contra figure with my second cous- 
in, Billy Noyes, who was a capital 
dancer we two usually headed the 
set. Fun and frolic ruled the hour till 
after nine o'clock, when my horse was 
brought to the door. There were other 
vehicles, and gentlemen's and ladies' 
saddle horses, awaiting. My cousins 
and I sprang into our chaise and I 
drove forward. We had reached the 
summit of Plummer's hill when Kate 
began to prick up her ears and, with a 
sniff, to gather in her paces. The clat- 
ter of approaching hoofs struck my 
ear, and. before I could realize the sit- 
uation, William Thurrell and my cousin 
William Smith rushed past on horse- 
back, the horses going at the top of 
their speed. One took the right, the 
other the left of my chaise. As they 
swept past, Kate gave a snort and, 
springing forward, joined in the race. 

Down we went, at a break-neck speed, 
down the steep declivity, the loose 
stones of the rough road frying in every 
direction. As the horse was beyond 
my control, all I could do was to hold 
the reins as tightly as possible, but, as 
they were new, I felt secure. On we 
dashed, through "Tea street." It was 
impossible for me to turn to take my 
cousins home, nor could I stop until the 
schoolhouse was reached. Here my 
companions were able to alight, but 
were obliged to walk back about half a 
mile, while I proceeded up Crane-neck 
hill at a more leisurely pace. The 
3~oung men were somewhat frightened 
at the escapade, but. upon the whole, 
enjoyed it vastly, declaring, much to 
rny vexation, that "little Sally Smith 
can beat the best jockey in the whole 
country around." 


In contradistinction to the church 
from which they had separated, our 
forefathers had established a severe 
simplicity in public worship, which, as 
the country grew older, and society in- 
creased in liberality and culture, became 
distasteful to the more }*outhful portion 
of the population. Deaconing hymns 
had become nearly obsolete, and musi- 
cal instruments began to appear in the 
singing seats. 

Though severe and strict in theologi- 
cal dogmas, Parson Woods was. upon 
the whole, a progressive man. Through 
his influence our choir had greatly im- 
proved in singing, and when it was pro- 
posed to have a viol accompaniment, he 
made no objection. Accordingly, one 



fine summer morning, Mr. Ben. Brown, 
with an important air, marched up the 
gallery stairs, bearing his bass-viol in 
his hand. There was a sensational stir 
throughout the singing seats. Mr. Ed- 
mund Little tiptoed to and fro. There 
were nods and whispers, shuffling of 
the leaves of singing books ; then came 
the prelirninan- screams, screeches, 
grunts, growls, sees and saws from the 
viol. While this was proceeding, the 
faces of the congregation were a study 
worthy of a Hogarth. Amazement sub- 
sided into curiosity ; the younger por- 
tion sat in smiling expectanc}-, while 
their elders glanced at one another, dis- 
approval written in every wrinkle of 
their sour visages, and the children 
gazed with wide open eyes and open- 
mouthed astonishment. At the first in- 
timation of the idea of having this in- 
strumental accompaniment, aunt Judy 
Dole had entered her vehement protest 
against it. She and her sisters occu- 
pied seats upon the women's bench in 
the gallery. At the first sight of Mr. 
Brown, the old ladj-'s face grew rigid ; 
stern determination and severe disap- 
proval became legible in every line. 
Parson Woods and his family came in, 
and the usual masculine rush followed ; 
the last loiterer had become seated and 
the last pew door had been slammed. 
Parson Woods, as was customary, 
opened the service with a short prayer ; 
then the hymn was named and read, 
and the choir arose, in rustling impor- 
tance. Mr. Brown, with the air of an 
emperor, drew his bow across the 
strings. At the first sound, up jumped 
aunt Judy, and. with indignant opposi- 
tion in ever} 1 creak of the high-heeled 
channeled pumps, she firmly strode 
through the galleiy and down the stairs, 
then, passing out at the front door, 

seated herself on the horse-block, re- 
maining there during the service. At 
its close she rode home with the rest of 
the family, but it was a long time ere 
the prim maiden became sufficiently 
reconciled to the new fashion to appear 
in her wonted place on the Sabbath. 

The second year of her widowhood, 
aunt Hannah Stickney married Mr. 
Samuel Noyes, of the " Farms," New- 
bury. This gentlemen, a descendant 
of John,*oldest son of Nicholas Noves, 
a widower with four children, was a 
cousin of her first husband. Many 
wondered that so young a women as 
aunt Hannah should feel willing to as- 
sume the responsibility of rearing and 
training so many small children . Though 
the young widow had returned to her 
father's house, she could not make it 
the girlish home which she had left with 
a heart so full of buoyant hope. Mr. 
Noyes had been most kind in his minis- 
trations during Mr. Stickney's illness, 
upbearing the fainting souls of the sick 
man and his family, by his firm faith, and 
devotional spirit. Through every trial 
he had been a v true comforter to Mrs. 
Stickney, thereby winning her gratitude 
and affectionate interest. This* good 
man needed a wife, his children needed 
a mother, she could supply this need. 
Cheerfully and lovingly her life's work 
was assumed. How well this task was 
performed, the reverent respect and 
love of her family attested. To no one 
could more properly be applied the scrip- 
ture text, "Her children rise up and 
call her blessed ; her husband also, and 
he praiseth her." The second nuptials 
were strictly private, the ceremony be- 
ing performed at the residence of the 
Rev. Dr. Parish, in Byfield. The little, 
black doctor, greatly diverted one of 
his favorite parishioners, Mrs. Moses 



Colman, by the information that the 
day previous he had married the hand- 
somest woman he ever saw, to Mr. Sam 
Noyes. " Such black eyes, Mrs. Col- 
man, such a complexion, and such a 
sweet j'et sparkling expression. Oh, 
she is a beaut)', Mrs. Colman ! I have 
thought you as handsome as any woman 
I ever saw, but this one is handsomer ; 
ves," musingly added the divine, as he 
leaned back in his chair and critically 
examined his companion's fac3 through 
half closed ej*es, "yes, Mrs. Colman, I 
must decide that of the two she is the 

Much amused, Mrs Colman inquired 
the beauty's name. 

' ' Hannah Stickney ; her maiden 
name was Little." 

' ' Why Doctor, she is my own cous- 
in," the lady replied with surprise. 

"Well, you may be proud of your 
cousin, Mrs. Colman, and I must say 
your famil)' may be proud of them- 
selves. Such a splendid set of black- 
e) T ed queens ! Why they are positively 
regal ! Yes, yes, positively regal ! " 
This was too good to be kept private, 
and the black-eyed queens were duly 
informed ot the distinguished doctor's 
tribute to their lovliness. 

The prostration of grief at length 
passed, and aunt Adams began to take 
her wonted interest in the cares and 
duties of life. As the house was in- 
convenient for two families, the second 
year of her widowhood Mrs. Adams 
took the farm into her own manage- 
ment. Mr. Adams had built a shoe- 
maker's shop when he first took posses- 
sion of the premises. This was hired 
by two or three young men, former ap- 
prentices of uncle Bill Little. Having 
come of age, they commenced business 
for themselves, boarding with aunt 

Adams, Nabby Smith still being re- 
tained as an assistant. 

As soon as aunt Hannah had become 
established in her new home, aunt 
Adams and myself were invited to pa)- 
her a visit. Accordingly, one warm 
August morning, we set out. We took 
aunt Adams' chaise and our horse. 
We had passed the factory and were 
approaching the "Fatherland Farm," 
when the pin broke and the right wheel 
dropped. Luckily, the horse stopped 
instantly, and I sprang out and held 
her head while aunt Adams could 
alight. What next was to be done? 
Looking around, I espied Mr. Gorham 
Parsons and some workmen in an adja- 
cent field. I started to gain their as- 
sistance, but Mr. Parsons, perceiving 
our dilemma, came forward to meet me, 
accompanied by one of the men, who 
proved to be Joe Gould, who was often 
employed at our farm. Gould took the 
chaise to Mr. Moses Dole's blacksmith 
shop, which was a short distance be- 
3 T ond, and Mr. Parsons escorted aunt 
Adams and myself to the house, which 
was now finished and furnished in great 
elegance, being the most imposing man- 
sion in the vicinity ; with its well-or- 
dered stables and other appointments, 
forming an establishment of which the 
proprietor might well be proud. The 
housekeeper, Mrs. Plummer, was called, 
and we were shown into a parlor. A 
bell rang above stairs, succeeded by 
much running to and fro. Xext a ne- 
gro page flung wide the door, and, with 
a profound obeisance, ushered in Mr. 
Parsons, supporting on his arm a stout, 
florid-complexioned woman, habited in 
a white dimity wrapper, her head 
adorned by a crape turban. {surmounting 
a frisette of light curls ; her gouty feet, 
encased in velvet slippers, were still 


further assisted by a gold-headed cane. 
This lady, Madame Eben Parsons, Mr. 
Gorham Parsons' mother, was followed 
by Mrs. Plummer, bearing a fan and 
scent-bottle, while the rear of the pro- 
cession was brought up by a young 
waiting maid, loaded with a footstool, 
shawl and cushions. 

The ceremony of introduction over, 
after much fixing and fussing, chang- 
ing from one window to another, ar- 
ranging and rearranging of footstool 
and cushions, Madame Parsons at 
length became seated and at leisure to 
turn her attention to her visitors. She 
expressed delight on learning that we 
were relatives of her friend Mrs. Moses 
Colman, of whom she spoke in the 
highest terms. Her sons also received 
the meed of praise. As they often 
went on business between the " Fath- 
erland Farm " and Mr. Parsons's es- 
tate in Brighton, the lady had made 
their acquaintance. 

I well remembered David Emery's 
first visit to Boston, then a lad of 
twelve, a most remarkable event it 
then seemed to me, a ten year old girl. 
How eagerly I listened to every minu- 
tae of the tour which was made in com- 
pany with his elder brother, Jeremiah 
Colman. They took two pigs of the 
famous "B} T field" breed from the 
" Fatherland Farm" to Brighton, in a 
spring cart, drawn by a favorite family 
mare named Dorcas. The journey was 
made in one day, and they returned on 
the next. The night was passed at 
the residence of Mr. Eben Parsons in 
Boston. This was an ancient structure 
on Summer street. A flight of steps 
led directly from the sidewalk to the 
front door which opened into a square 
hall that was used as a parlor ; in the 
rear, stood a large stable, and in front 



stretched a common upon which Mr. 
Parsons's two cows were pastured. 

Cake and wine served we were invit- 
ed into the garden, which lying on a 
gentle declivity was laid out in terra- 
ces, the walks bordered by trim hedges 
of box. There was a variety of choice 
flowers and fruit. Having been regaled 
with fine specimens of early pears and 
each presented with a magnificent bou- 
quet ; as our chaise had arrived, neatly 
repaired, we made our adieus amid mu- 
tual compliments and hopes of contin- 
uing our acquaintance thus accidentally 
formed. A few moments' ride brought 
us to " Dummer Academy," the Gov. 
Dummer Mansion House, the same fine 
specimen of colonial architecture it is 
to-day. The Academj- was the old 
building, a gambrel-roofed, one-story 
structure with a low, dome-capped 
belfry facing the highway. This, the 
" Alma Mater" of David Emery, the 
Colman boys and other youthful 
friends, was to me a spot of much in- 

Crossing the bridge over the river 
Parker we soon found ourselves in the 
precincts of the "Farms." As Aunt 
Adams wished to call upon relatives of 
her late husband, we stopped at the 
residence of Mr. Israel and the widow 
Liffe Adams. We found Mr. and Mrs. 
Israel Adams seated either side of the 
wide fire-place, in which smouldered a 
few embers. Their daughter Polly was 
knitting by the window. She expressed 
reat pleasure at seeing us, and as she 
had been a favorite schoolmate of Da- 
vid Emery's, and I had often heard him 
speak of her, I was happy to make the 
acquaintance of the belle and heiress of 
the neighborhood. Mrs. Liflfe Adams 
and her daughter Eunice were weaving 
in a shop contiguous. Polly having 



summoned them to the house, a great 
rejoicing ensued. They were delighted 
to see their nephew's widow, and I was 
warmly welcomed. They all spoke 
with the greatest satisfaction of Mr. 
Noyes' good fortune in securing Aunt 
Hannah for a wife. After a pleasant 
call we took leave with a promise to 
take tea with them on the next after- 
noon. A few moments brought us to 
the Noyes homestead, a large, square 
house, surrounded by barns and other 
farm buildings. Maj. Noyes occupied 
the lower, and his son the upper half. 
I knocked at the front door, but as no 
one came I stepped into the hall ; as 
my knock was evidently unheard, I 
made my way through a back room to 
the long kitchen and there I found the 
senior Mrs. Noyes. The old lady was 
washing the large hearth, exhibiting in 
the process an excess of neatness, 
which I never saw either before or since. 
She had gathered the remnants of the 
morning fire on a shovel and was wash- 
ing ever}- brick. I quite startled the 
good woman, but upon her learning who 
I was, and that Aunt Adams was wait- 
ing outside, she expressed much joy at 
our coming, and despatched the maid 
servant for Aunt Hannah, who was in 
the garden. My aunt came with all 
speed. As we were the first members 
of her family that she had seen since 
her marriage, her greeting was very 
cordial. The male members of her 
family were in the meadows, the chil- 
dren at school ; as the school-house 
was at some distance they dined at their 
uncle Nat Moody's, whose residence 
was near to it, consequently we had a 
nice, easy tune, all to ourselves. In 
the afternoon, Grandmam' Noyes and 
Miss Becky, a single daughter, joined 
us in Aunt Hannah's room. Between 

five and six the children came home, a 
nice girl of ten, quite a little "help" 
to her step-mother, and two bright 
boys, whose affections she had evident- 

won. At dusk the " men folks " ar- 
rived. The two gentlemen expressed 
great pleasure at meeting us. The ma- 
jor, a gallant man of the old school, 
like his son and the Rev Dr. Parish, 
was a great admirer of black eyes. He 
was pleased to be exceedingly compli- 
mentary, I saw that Aunt Hannah was 
a favorite with the old gentleman, as 
she evidently had become with the 
whole family. After tea, as it was a 
bright moonlight evening, we walked 
out to the family burial place, which 
was situated on a slight eminence in a 
pleasant grove back of the house. 

The next afternoon, accompanied by 
aunt Hannah and Miss Becky Noyes, 
we paid the proposed visit to the 
Adams family. We enjoyed their 
compam', and were most hospitably en- 
tertained. At tea we were joined by 
Mrs. Liffe Adams' son, Robert, a bash- 
ful and eccentric stripling of eighteen. 
Much to my amusement and that of 
my two aunts, every endeavor was put 
forth, by his mother and other relatives, 
to render the young man companiona- 
ble to me. Sly promptings were given 
on every hand to induce him to show 
his gallantry, but the poor youth was 
sadly at a loss, completely discomfited. 
Mrs. Adams, actirig, perhaps, upon the 
principle that children left alone the 
better facilitate their acquaintance, after 
tea took the others to look at her cheese. 
Poor Robert, thus cast upon his own 
resources, did his best at being agreea- 
ble, but his efforts were so ludicrous 
that, after a vain endeavor to maintain 
composure, I was obliged to rush into 
the front yard, under the pretence of 



looking at the sweet balm, but in real- 
ity to suppress nry risibles. The rest 
joined me, and, as aunt Adams thought 
we had better return that night, we 
soon took leave. A pleasant ride, with- 
out any adventure, carried us home. 
Our visit had been most satisfactory, 
and we assured our friends that, how- 
ever much others might doubt, we were 
certain that aunt Hannah had not mis- 
taken her vocation. 


Aunt 8us3 r Dole was a confirmed in- 
valid, and sometimes had ill turns, when 
a watcher was required. At the period 
of Mr. Stickney's and the baby's ill- 
ness I had been so much in the family, 
that the sisters had been in the habit o' 
sending for me at the slightest ailment. 
One sultry, foggy night, the first of 
September, a summons came to watch 
with aunt Susy. Our straw work had 
been unusually pressing, and I really 
felt unable to sit up all night. Aunt 
Sarah declared I should not go, " that 
Susy Dole no more needed a watcher 
than a cat needed two tails." Mother, 
who always considered every one's com- 
fort before her own, thought I had bet- 
ter go. About eight o'clock I went. 
I found the brothers and sisters seated 
in the kitchen, the door being ajar into 
the room where aunt Susy lay in bed. 
After a little chat, a candle was placed 
on the round stand, when uncle Amos 
proceeded to read a chapter from the 
Bible. The old gentleman was troub- 
led with a cough ; he always kept a 
mug of colts-foot tea handy on the 
dresser. He would read a few verses 

and stop to cough ; then taking a sip of 
the tea he would proceed, and in this 
way, the long chapter was at length fin- 
ished. Then each rose and bowing 
over their chair, reverently joined in 
the long prayer, which, like the read- 
ing, was frequently interrupted by 
coughs and sips of the medicine. Un- 
cle Amos would have been shocked at 
anything that bordered on ritualism. 
The bare mention of a liturg} r was 
enough to raise the hair from his Brow, 
yet, by custom, he had brought this 
daily prayer into a set formula, which 
scarcely varied from day to day. He 
prayed for every body and every thing : 
"The president, vice-president and 
both houses of congress ; the^ govern- 
or, the lieut. -governor, the clergy, the 
colleges and schools ; the aged, infirm 
and dying ; the pensioners, the poor 
and afflicted ; travellers by land and 
all those that go down to the sea in 
ships." The length}- petition ended, 
the family retired and I entered upon 
my duty. Aunt Susy seemed very 
comfortable, said " her abb tea was all 
that she should need, but that must be 
kept hot." I added a few sticks to the 
smouldering fire, and placed a pewter 
porringer of balm tea on the embers. 
After inquiries respecting aunt Hannah 
and her new home, the invalid fell 
asleep. Screening the candle, I took 
a pile of " Newburyport Heralds," (un- 
cle Amos was a constant subscriber to 
that paper) , and whiled away a couple 
of hours ; then aunt Susy awoke and 
demanded the tea ; to my chagrin it was 
not warm enough to suit, and I was 
compelled to reheat it. When it was 
ready, my patient was again in sound 
slumber. Fearing that she might 
awake and ask for the tea, I kept up the 
fire until the heat became intolerable. 



Tiptoeing into the kitchen, I opened the 
outer door, but was met by such a 
swarm of mosquitos, engendered by the 
vicinity of the pond, that it was instant- 
ly closed. I returned to the bedroom 
and sinking into aunt Susy's easy chair, 
unintentionally dropped asleep. When 
I awoke the room was pitchy dark, my 
head was in a whirl and every limb 
ached. I sprang for a candle, but was 
so turned round by the sudden awaken- 
ing it was difficult to find the table ; at 
length the candle, a small dip with a 
tow wick, was lightened, the fire re- 
plenished, and much to my relief the 
herb tea boiling when aunt Susy awoke. 
It suited this time. Dawn began to 
break, and aunt Judy relieved my vigil. 
The sick woman bade me good morn- 
ing, with many encomiums upon my 
skill as a nurse, declared I had been 
the best watcher she had had. I ar- 
rived at home in time to assist in set- 
ting off father and the boys, who were 
going to Plum Island to rake the last 
freight of hay for that season. It was 
an exceedingly sultry morning, but 
about eleven o'clock a thunder shower 
came up, after which the wind changed 
to north-east : a drenching rain set in 
accompanied by a high wind, which, as 
the afternoon advanced, grew into a 
tremendous gale. We were much wor- 
ried respecting father and the boys, as 
they did not return, but concluded that 
they had sought shelter at one of the 
two farm houses at the lower end of the 

With some difficulty we managed to 
get the cows and tie them up in the 
barn. The milking and other chores 
done, we tried to pass a cheerful even- 
ing, but it did not avail, and a some- 
what sleepless night followed. The 
morning broke cloud}- and misty, but 

the wind had subsided. The cows had 
been put in a part of the field which 
had been railed off for fall feed. The 
bordering wall was lined by apple 
trees ; so many apples had blown to 
the ground we dared not turn the cows 
to pasture till the}' were gathered. The 
grass and apples were cold and wet, 
and by the time I had finished picking 
them, a tooth that had been troublesome 
was aching excruciatingly. Father and 
the boys returned that afternoon . They 
had been subjected to a cold and wear- 
isome experience. In company with 
numbers of other haymakers, they had 
received shelter at the "Cross Farm," 
and slept in the barn under an ox-cart. 
Happy at their safe return, I ban- 
daged my face and essayed to sleep. 
It was useless. I tried cold water and 
hot, cloves, ginger, poultices, and 
everything that could be suggested, to 
relieve the pain, but in vain ! Two de- 
cayed teeth ached with an intolerable 
persistency that no remedy would re- 
lieve, and I came to the conclusion that 
cold steel would be the only panacea. 
Tired as he had been, I was in such 
distress, my young brother Joseph 
roused himself, and, after an early 
breakfast, we set forth for Dr. Poore's 
residence on the main road. The doc- 
tor had gone into the pasture to fetch 
his horse. Mrs. Poore, who was a fav- 
orite cousin of my mother's, gave me a 
most sympathetic welcome. "It was a 
shame to lose two teeth ; could not 
something be done to save them?" 
Glad as I should have been to have ar- 
rived at a contrary decision, I felt that 
they must come out, and the doctor, 
finding that the sight of him did not 
scare away the pain, concurred in this 
opinion. I was seated in an arm chair 
in the centre of the room, and Mrs. 



Poore was directed to hold my head. 
A young lady school teacher, who was 
a boarder in the family, took a stool, 
and, placing it at my side, sat down to 
watch the doctor and the gum. I 
should have liked to have poked her 
over, but as neither the doctor nor 
Mrs. Poore entered any remonstrance 
at what I deemed an impertinence, of 
course I remained passive. At sight 
of the cruel-looking, old-fashioned in- 
struments, my little brother turned pale, 
and I could not repress a shudder. 
Mrs. Poore gave me a sympathetic hug, 
and the doctor applied the cold steel. 
The instrument was found to be too 
large, and he proceeded to wind it with 
his bandanna. I thought of the addic- 
tion to snuff, but there was no time for 
squeamishness. The instrument was 
again on ; a jam, a screw, a twist, a 
pull, and my molar new across the 
room. The good doctor was triumph- 
ant ' ' such a splendid pull ; I never 
had better success ! " 

My brother heaved a sigh of relief, 
the school mistress settled herself for 
another good look, kind Mrs. Poore 
handed a glass of water, then again 
pityingly took my head between her 
hands. More trouble with the instru- 
ment slipping, another jam, screw, and 
a crash that I thought lifted my scalp, 
and sent sparks flying from my eyes, 
this second tooth was broken even with 
the gum. After giving a few moments' 
rest, the doctor proceeded to pry out 
the root. He jammed and punched to 
no purpose, until nature could bear no 
more, and 1 sank back almost un- 
conscious. My brother started up, 
nearly upsetting the school teacher in 
his eagerness, and vehemently protest- 
ed against any further operation. Mrs. 
Poore thought he was right, and the 

doctor, somewhat reluctantly, desisted 
from his efforts to extract the root. 
It would "loosen and come out," he 
thought, but he feared I would suffer 
some time. I was too much exhausted 
to think ; all I could do was to endure. 
The horse had to walk the most of 
the way home, as the least jar was ex- 
cruciating. My face swelled fearfully, 
and my neck and shoulders were so 
stiff, I could not lie down for two or 
three nights ; all the nourishment I 
could take was at the corner of my 
mouth from one of the old fashioned 
tea spoons. Weeks passed ere I could 
resume my wonted occupations. I had 
not fully recovered at Thanksgiving. 
As Nabby Smith had gone home and 
aunt Adams felt blue alone, father took 
me to pass the afternoon with her ; Da- 
vid Emery had come to spend the fes- 
tival at his grandfather's, and towards 
night he and uncle Joe Little came in 
with Lewis Hatch and William Smith ; 
the two latter boarded with aunt Ad- 
ams. The visitors received a cordial 
greeting, and my aunt insisted that un- 
cle Joe and David should remain to tea. 
A merry time ensued ; David amused 
us with the description of an adven- 
ture that he had experienced that morn- 
ing. In a hurry to start for " Crane- 
neck," he rose, the first in the house, 
at dawn. Finding no tinder in the tin- 
der box with which to light the fire, he 
fixed the kindlings, and taking down 
the old ' ' Kings Arm " from the brack- 
ets over the mantel, placed it across 
the andirons, and pouring a little pow- 
der into the pan, sprang the trigger 
a bang, concussion that nearly sent 
him heels over head, while brick and 
mortar flew in every direction. Bump, 
bump, resounded from above, as the 
snoozers sprang from their beds, while 



Mr. & Mrs. Colman rushed from their 
bedroom on the ground floor en disha- 

"What is it, David?" shouted the 
old gentleman. 

" My son, what have you done?" 
screamed his mother, while the remain- 
der of the family rattled down stairs, 
querying " what is the matter?" The 
commotion subsided, explanation fol- 
lowed. The gun which David had 
supposed empty, Daniel had loaded the 
previous evening in order to fire a 
Thanksgiving salute in the morning. 

"Well, we've had the salute," said 
his father, "a deuce of a salute ; I hope 
3'ou'r' satisfied ;" and amid jokes and 
laughter the brick and mortar was 
cleared. , The stout, old chimney had 
well withstood the charge, one jamb 
was somewhat shattered, but no great 
damage had been done ; but Mrs. Col- 
man concluded "that in future she 
would ensure a good stock of tinder, 
that no similar sportsman-like effort 
should be made in lighting the kitchen 

The young man was a good mimic, 
and possessed considerable theatrical 
talent, and he related this instance with 
such inimitable drollery, that the laugh 
which I was fain to indulge in, fairl}' 
took the twist from my jaw, and 
thenceforward iny recovery was rapid. 


The wealth and superior attractions 
of Aunt Adams brought her many 
suitors, but for four years her heart 
remained constant to the memory of 
the early loved ; then it began to be 

whispered that she showed an inclina- 
tion to favor the suit of Mr. John 

Robert Coker, yeoman, born in 1606, 
came to Newbury with the first settlers, 
and died May 19th, 1690, aged 84. 
His wife, Catharine, died May 2nd, 
1678. Their children were Joseph, 
Sara, Benjamin and Hannah, 

Joseph Coker married Sara Hathorne 
April 13, 1665. Children: Sara, who 
died November 30th, 1667, Benjamin, 
Sara and Hathorne. 

Samuel Coker, son of Hathorne, 
owned an extensive tract of land at the 
north part of Newbun-port. 

Mr. Coker joined the society of 
"Friends," and his son, Thomas, who 
inherited the estate and erected several 
houses in that part of the town, was of 
the same society. The family burial 
place was in a lot on Washington, 
nearly opposite the head of Strong 
street. Thomas Coker married Sarah 
Greenleaf. John was their oldest son. 

The family arms are : 


For some 3'ears Mr. Thomas Coker 



had cultivated a farm in the lower par- 
ish, Newbury, where he had recently 
died very suddenly. John thus became 
not; only the staff of his widowed 
mother, but the head of a large family 
of young brothers and sisters. His 
filial and fraternal devotion won Mrs. 
Adams's regard. Handsome, intelli- 
gent, highly respected, and a practical 
farmer, the match appeared exceeding- 
ly proper, as the young man was every 
way qualified for a companion and pro- 
tector to the youthful widow. The en- 
gagement was at length announced, 
but the marriage was not solemnized 
until the following October. The wed- 
ding was private, but the couple were 
the centre of observation, the next Sun- 
day. "Walking out bride," was one 
of the customs of the time. Few finer 
looking couples ever paced up the aisle 
of the sacred edifice : the bridegroom 
with his nicety cued hair, and light 
drab surtout, the bride habited in a 
white, dimity flounced dress, a lilac 
satin ; short pelisse, edged by rich 
black lace, and a salmon colored plush 
bonnet, surmounted by tossing white 

Mr. Coker took his place most de- 
corously as the head of the household, 
and he immediately instituted man}' 
improvements both within doors and 
without, the illness and death of the 
former proprietor having left the new 
buildings and other appurtenances of 
the farm in need of care and labor for 

I have previously mentioned that 
amongst the apprentices who came to 
the place with Mr. William Little was 
a youth by the name of Lewis Hatch. 
This young man, left an orphan when 
a mere child, had purchased his free- 
dom when Mr. Little left his sister's 

residence, and then a youth of eighteen, 
he commenced business for himself, 
working in the shop on the place, and 
boarding with Mr. Adams. 

Politics at this period waxed fierce 
and furious. John Coker was an en- 
thusiastic "Jacobin," Lewis Hatch as 
strong a " Federalist." Constant dis- 
putes occurred, not pleasant in a 
household. Mr. Hatch concluded to 
locate elsewhere, and much as he was 
respected, Mrs. Coker was pleased at 
this determination. 

Four miles from ' ' Crane-Neck " was 
a crossing of roads called ' ' New Row- 
ley Corner ;" near by resided Maj. Paul 
Nelson, a smart man, carrying on con- 
siderable business. Though a bache- 
lor, he kept house on his estate, upon 
which was a large tannery. Amongst 
the appurtenances of the place was a 
small shoe-maker's shop, which Lewis 
Hatch hired, and commenced the shoe 
business on a small scale. In a short 
time he was joined by my uncle Joe. 
Little, both young men boarding in the 
family of Maj. Nelson. The business 
prospering, my uncle, Ben. Little, 
joined the firm, which hired the whole 
premises with the exception of the tan- 
nery. A housekeeper was procured, 
and Maj. Nelson in turn boarded with 
the young bachelors, who now had also 
several youths apprenticed to them, 
besides employing workmen outside. 

As a matter of convenience and 
profit uncle Joe. Little conceived the 
idea of setting up a small grocery and 
general furnishing store. One of the 
front rooms of the house was fitted 
with shelves and other accommoda- 
tions, and the goods were purchased. 
This shop-keeping immediate!}' pros- 
pered. The workmen were pleased at 
being enabled to supply their house- 


hold needs so easily, and as there had 
been no store for miles around, custom 
began to flock to the place, which even 
then wore a bustling air of prosperity. 

It would have seemed but natural, 
as female cooperation was so necessary, 
that one at least of this trio of bache- 
lors should seek a wife, and a legend 
is extant, that uncle Joe did for a time 
entertain some such idea. Before 
going to New Rowley, he had formed 
the acquaintance of a young lady, the 
teacher of the summer school in our 
district. The new firm manufactured 
for merchants in Salem and Boston, 
and as his grocer}' business increased, 
uncle Joe. made weekly trips to those 
cities, driving his team, which consist- 
ed of a two wheeled spring cart drawn 
by one horse, (four wheeled wagons 
did not come into use until a few years 
later) . 

The father of the young lady teacher 
kept a tavern on the route ; thus my 
uncle had ample opportunity to renew 
his acquaintance with the daughter. 

The young man from childhood had 
been addicted to absent fits of intro- 
spection, at these times he also had a 
habit of picking his nails. I have seen 
him stand ten minutes, wholly oblivi- 
ous to the outside world, nervously 
twitching his fingers. 

It was reported that one cold after- 
noon on his way home from Boston, 
Mr. Little called on the inn keeper's 
daughter. Unexpectedly opening the 
door to the private sitting room he 
briskly entered, but neither the lady 
nor the room bore the aspect of neat- 
ness to have been expected at that 
hour of the day and from one who had 
always seemed to pride herself upon 
her elegance. The story ran that 
though the young man had entered 

most cheerily, he suddenly grew silent 
and glum ; refusing the chair offered, 
he took his stand back to the fire and 
fell into a brown stud}*, his eyes fixed 
on vacancy, while his nails were 
picked most assiduously. A heat at 
his ankles roused him, and he found 
that in his abstraction he had burned 
the heels of his boots. 

I never heard that the visit was 
renewed ; every matrimonial inclina- 
tion disappeared ; Mr. Little became 
wholly immersed in his business, and 
Miss. Man- Hatch, a sister of Lewis 
Hatch, took her place as mistress of 
the bachelor establishment. 

The New Rowley manufacturers 
were often hurried on orders. In the 
winter season, when the straw work 
was suspended, I often bound both 
boots and shoes for them ; in an emer- 
gency 1 was their resource. 

One afternoon at the period of which 
I am writing, in the earl}* part of the 
week, uncle Joe. appeared bearing a 
hundred pairs of seal-skin boots, which 
he said must be corded and strapped 
by Saturday. At first I declared they 
could not be done in such a limited 
time, but after some demur, yielding 
to his ardent solicitation, I promised 
to do my best, and without the least 
delay set to work. It was a dirty dis- 
agreeable job ; only love for my uncle, 
and a desire to promote his interest 
could have induced its undertaking. 
As it was, I stitched and stitched 
assiduously day after day, and the 
task' was accomplished in the given 
time. The last stitch was just taken 
as uncle Joe. entered the door. He 
was accompanied by David Emery. 
Smut from head to foot I presented no 
very attractive aspect. The young 
man snatched the completed boot from 



my hand, and tossing it at uncle Joe, 
vehemently protested against his thu 
imposing on my good nature. The 
matter ended in a laugh, but thence- 
forward only the lighter sort of work 
was brought to me, and that only upon 
some sudden exigence. 

In a few years the business had 
increased to such an extent that to 
better its accommodation a large store 
was erected exactly on "New Rowley 
Corner," which thei-eafter bore the 
designation of "Little's Corner." A 
house was also built for the con- 
venience of the bachelor family. In 
a short time uncle Ben. Little put 
up a large dwelling house in the vicin- 
it}', and some indications of a match 
between himself and Miss Hatch were 
thought to be tangible. At this junc- 
ture Mr. Lewis Hatch was suddenly 
prostrated with typhoid fever. After 
a short illness he died ere he had 
reached his thirtieth birth-da}*. His 
was a short but active life, and his 
death caused a sad void amidst his 
limited but choice circle of friends, by 
whom his memory has been cherished 
with affectionate respect. 

Miss Hatch, a delicate person, was 
overwhelmed by the death of her 
brother, and being a victim to disease, 
and though living to an advanced age, 
she ever after remained an invalid. 

Business at ' ' Little's Corner " rapid- 
ly increased, other buildings were 
erected, a village sprung up, and the 
nucleus for the now flourishing town 
of Georgetown was formed. Uncle 
Ben. and uncle Joe. have passed away, 
but their mantle has worthily descended 
.to their nephews, Samuel Little and 
John Coker. 


Amidst my first reccollections of the 
" Port," loom up drear and dread the 
jail, the whipping post was opposite, 
and the stocks on Water street just 
below Market square, and the work- 
house on Federal street. Newbur}^ 
had no poor-house, its paupers were 
let out in families. In this way most 
reliable servants for lighter work were 
often obtained. An old revolutionary 
soldier by the name of Mitchell re- 
sided in the family of Mr. Moses 
Colman for years. This veteran was 
held in high estimation by the three 
boys, to whom he became an unques- 
tionable authority in field sports, the 
training of horses and dogs, and other 
masculine accomplishments, besides 
being a perfect encyclopedia of know- 
ledge in various departments of natural 
history, with a never failing stock of 
humorous anecdotes and tales, mingled 
with the sterner recital of privation, 
cold and hunger, battle and siege, with 
all the details, the light and the shade, 
the pomp, pageantry, glory and gore 
of the time that tried men's souls. 
Later, a woman, always termed " Old 
Mar}*," came into the household 
whom both children and grandchildren 
regarded as a sort of foster mother, 
and whose memory is still affection- 
ately cherished. 

In my more youthful da}*s the roads 
were infested by tramps. Ugly look- 
ing men and women, begging their way 
from one place to another. The meet- 
ing of such people on my way to and 
from school was one of the terrors of 
my childhood. There was an old unoc- 
supied house on the road, and I never 
passed it alone without accelerated 
pace and a quaking heart. Then, 



though the days of Salem witehcraft 
were ended and old women were no 
longer hung as witches, in every com- 
munity there was one or more believed 
to possess the " evil eye," and in every 
house could be seen horse shoes above 
the doors, and other charms against 
their machinations. I vividly recall the 
mixture of awe and terror, with wh'ch 
I was wont to regard the large, quaint, 
red house on the lower corner of Market 
and High streets, famous in the annals 
of witchcraft. Here resided Goodwife 
Elizabeth Morse, who in 1680, "she 
not having the fear of God before her 
eyes, being instigated b}- the Divil, and 
had familiarity with the Divil contrary 
to the peace of our sovereign lord the 
king, his crown and dignity, the laws 
of God, and of this jurisdiction," was 
tried in Boston and sentenced to be 
hanged. Through the firmness of Gov. 
Bradstreet this sentence was commuted, 
and though Mrs. Morse lived an exem- 
plary, Christian life in her own house 
for many years, the stigma attached to 
her character had been transmitted 
through the succeeding generations. 
Tales of the "Goody," and the won- 
derful performances that had taken 
place at the " Morse House" were fa- 
miliar legends, which, detailed of a win- 
ter's night, by a low burning candle, 
and smouldering fire, the blast shriek- 
ing round the large house and howling 
down the wide chimney, while the shad- 
ows deepened in the spacious room, 
and the tall clock in the corner ticked 
a solemn accompaniment to the low, 
tragic tones of the speaker, had often 
wrought an effect upon my imagination 
which time has failed to efface. 

It would have been difficult to have 
ascertained how or why the females 
thus marked, had received the unenvia- 

ble notoriety of witches. Generally 
they were persons of the lower class, 
some might have lost caste b}- youthful 
indiscretion, or by a somewhat dubious 
means of obtaining a present livelihood, 
but usually they were hard-working, 
inoffensive women, possessing a 
marked individuality, strong intellect- 
ual faculties, quick perception and keen 
wit, united to a firm will and independ- 
ence of action, characteristics which, 
in some way, had brought upon them 
the ban of the community. The witch 
of the " Falls Parish," was an old 
woman called "Tuggie Xoyes ;" her real 
Christian name was Margaret. I nev- 
er heard how she obtained the nickname 
of Tuggie. I have only a faint remem- 
brance of her, a dim recollection , of 
stealing behind my mother to peep at 
the witch, as she bargained for some 
tobacco which my father had raised. I 
think this woman gained a livelihood 
by spinning and weaving, and she was 
frequently employed by Mrs. Moses 
Colman. I have often heard David 
Emery relate an incident of his boy- 
hood by which his disbelief in witches 
was fulh* confirmed. 

One cold winter morning, David and 
his chum Xate Perlc}- were on their way 
to the old school-house at the corners, 
when they descried Tuggie advancing 
over the half-trodden path, the hood of 
her gray lambskin cloak drawn around 
her face, and a bunch of woolen yarn 
in her hand. 

" There's the witch," Xate exclaimed, 
lamenting the lack of a sixpence to 
place in the path to "stop her farther 

His companion expressed his credul- 
ity respecting such an effect, but never- 
theless drew a sixpence from his pock- 
et, which he adroitly dropped immedi- 



ately before the old woman ; she passed 
on directly over it with a curtsy and 
good day, and David again pocketed 
his coin, firm in the faith of Tuggie's 
innocence of any diabolical influence, 
with a full determination, never to be- 
lieve in any witch, save the witch of 

When I was six or seven years old, 
a young man in the neighborhood be- 
came insane. For a time he was a 
complete maniac, necessitating confine- 
ment, and a watchful attendance. Dis- 
ease of the brain was not generally un- 
derstood ; if one became a victim of ab- 
erration of intellect, it was universally 
declared that they were bewitched, and 
the various charms, most supremely 
ridiculous, then in vogue, were imme- 
diately exercised to dispel the foul 
fiend. Young Edward Hills, having 
as it was declared fallen under the in- 
fluence of the " evil eye," great were 
the efforts to discover the author of the 
spell b} r which he was bound. Suspic- 
ion pointed to two or three old women 
in that and the next parish, over 
whom a secret but strict surveilliance 
was instituted, while every test known 
in the annals of witch lore was put in 
requisition for the relief of the sup- 
posed bewitched youth. 

The person held in the greatest dis- 
trust was a worthy hard working 
woman, residing a short distance from 
Mr. Hill's. AVhy or how she should 
have attained to the dubious honor of 
being considered an equestrienne of 
the broomstick I never could conceive, 
unless it was from a shrewd, far- 
sighted intellect, and a fearless and 
forcible expression of her convictions, 
a keen wit, and a somewhat sharp 
tongue, that usually, to use a familiar 
phrase, " hit the nail on the head." 

Aunt Euth Little believed in witches 
as religiously as she did in her bible 
the least doubt was considered rank 
heresy. The supposed witch was em- 
ployed by the families in the vicinity 
both in spinning and weaving, and 
upon learning Edward Hill's situation 
Mrs. Little commenced a strict scrutiny 
over her neighbor. One evening that 
spring a young heifer unused to the 
process of milking became a little frac- 
tious and kicked over the milk pail. 
Aunt Ruth instantly declared her be- 
witched, and rushing to the barn armed 
with her sharp shears, she clipt a few 
hairs from the animal's tail, which were 
flung upon the fire. A fortnight after 
the supposed witch came in with her 
hand bandaged, she had burned it a 
few nights previous with the warming- 
pan. The expression of horror that 
.stole over aunt Euth's face at this 
announcement would have established 
the reputation of a tragic actress. 
" Sartinly she had had her suspicions, 
but r'aly they had never amounted to 
conviction till then ; to think that by 
burning the hair from the heifer's tail 
the hussy should get her hand scorched 
by the warming-pan ! " 

In vain both her husband, the hired 
man and David Emery, all declared 
that the incident respecting the heifer 
took place more than a week prior to 
the accident by the warming-pan, aunt 
Ruth was not to be silenced. "She 
knew black from white, and when her 
convictions were settled they were set- 

After a time Mr. Hill became per- 
fectly sane. By trade a joiner, he 
married and settled on the . family 
homestead ; years after, a few years 
prior to my marriage, he was again at- 
tacked by insanity. For a time he 



was extremely violent, so much so 
that he was chained to the floor of the 
parlor, which had been denuded of 
the furniture and the windows boarded 
to the upper panes. Though this sys- 
tem was rather calculated to enhance 
than repel the malady, after a time 
the disease assumed a milder type, 
and the maniac again took his place in 
the household, but to the end of a long 
life, his brain continued clouded. For 
months he would remain indoors, quiet 
and silent, then suddenly become the 
impersonation of activity, brimming 
over with a crazed wit, that was as 
humorous as it usually was harmless. 
At this second period of insanity, 
the world had sufficiently advanced in 
knowledge to place the affliction in the 
appropriate category; only a few, like 
aunt Ruth, still adhered to the witch 
doctrine, but the old ideas were held 
with such tenacity that Parson Woods 
was called to exorcise the foul fiend, 
and one watcher was nearly frightened 
out of his wits at the familj- cat, sup- 
posing her to be some witch's familiar. 
As the spring advanced, the young 
men in the vicinity volunteered to do 
the ploughing and planting for Mr. 
Hill. I often went to the Byfield factory 
on business, and Mrs. Hill told my 
brother James that she 'was desirous 
that I should execute a commission for 
her the next tune I rode thither. Ac- 
cordingly, one pleasant evening, I went 
in to receive her orders. Mrs. Hill 
was milking, the children were with her. 
Mr. Hill sat before a light fire which 
was smouldering in the kitchen fire- 
place. Seeing that he was alone, I 
hesitated on the threshold ; looking up, 
the lunatic with a pleased expression 
bade me enter and be seated. "His 
old woman would be in directly." 

Squinting up one eye, with a wise 
shake of the head, he added, " I know 
what she wants of you, Sallie. She 
thinks, wonderful woman, that it is a 
profound secret, but she has sent for 
you to bu} r the cloth at the factory for 
me a pair of breeches, and she has the 
money laid by to pay for it. Draw up 
your chair, Sallie, }'ou are not afraid of 
me. I sha'n't scare you as I did that 
New Hampshire chap that boarded at 
Deacon Tenney's last winter. I saw 
he was scared the moment he came in, 
and I determined to have a bit of fun. 
Didn't I kick up a ringtum ? The big 
lout was e'en jest frightened out of his 
senses ; he daresn't stay in the room, 
but every two minutes he would open 
the door a crack, and squeak out, 'won't 
you have a leetle caffee,Mr. Hill won't 
you have a leetle caflee ? ' I got so out 
of patience, I told him to hold his in- 
fernal tongue or 1 would ' caffee ' him 
with a vengeance ! I silenced him, but 
the darned fool took our old Suke for 
a witch, declared a strange cat flew in- 
to my room through the ke}' hole, when 
it was only our old cat who pushed in 
beside him, while he was holding the 
door and bawling 'caflee.' They say 
I was bewitched, Sallie. It was sport 
to make folks think so. Wasn't it fun 
to make folks' eyes stick out ? Aunt 
Ruth thought she knew. Oh 3-03, she 
is the elect lady ! She knows ; so the}' 
sent for Parson Woods. I told him 
he had such an acquaintance with his 
Satanic Majest}', his services would 
have been especially efficacious if need- 
ed, but I scarcely thought he would 
find any divil to exorcise. If he could 
he was at libert}- to pitch him into my 
pig-sty." Giving me another of his 
peculiarly knowing squints, he contin- 
ued, " Between 3-011 and I, I think the 



Lord was rather hard upon that Gada- 
rene. He must have taken him out of 
a good round sum. I have been calcu- 
lating," he added, pointing to some 
chalk marks by the fire-place, " but as 
the account only states the number, 
and not the value per head, I am una- 
ble to ascertain the loss. The fact was, 
Sallie, the Parson came too late, [and 
so I informed him. I told him the 
witches were dead. I saw them one 
moonlight night piping and dancing up 
" Crane-neck road." Old women on 
broomsticks, and young gals kicking 
up their heels, old Nick ahead leading 
the way. Fust they stopped at yer 
uncle Enoch Little's, but he swore so 
fast, the Divil gin in, and the gang 
trooped into uncle John's. Mr. Little 
was sitting afore the fire toasting fust 
the palms then the backs of his hands. 
He looked 'round, held out one hand, 
then the other, and said, ' yes, yes 
yes, yes,' so old Nick struck up again, 
and on they squirled to your house. 
Mr. Sam. Smith was down from Ver- 
mont, singing Methody hymns so loud 
they turned over to uncle Thurrel's. 

The old man driving up old ' White' 
in the cider mill, too much hurried to 
salute his fust cousin, he hollered, 
' Terap, Terap,' so lustily, the whole 
batch scampered off hilter skilter down 
'South End,' across 'Crane meadow,' 
and before they could fetch up, they 
rushed headlong into ' Crane pond,' 
and that was the end of the witches." 

With this announcement Mr. Hill 
gravely surve}"ed the opposite wall in 
silence, and I indulged in the merri- 
ment his apt description of the pecul- 
iar traits ot the individuals visited by 
the witches had exacted. Suddenly 
my companion started from his reverie, 
and exclaiming that his boot hurt him, 

drew it from his right foot ; having al- 
so removed his stockings, part of an- 
other stocking foot was disclosed ; tak- 
ing this off, he held up his foot, the 
toes covered by the thumb and fingers of 
buckskin glove, and asked, "if I 
should think that would feel com- 

Answering in the negative, I in- 
quired why he had thus bundled up his 
toes? Vouchsafing no reply, he slow- 
ly and sedately drew off first the thumb 
and next the fingers, flinging them 
into the fire with a muttered invocation 
as each fell upon the coals, and as the 
last curled upon the embers, he quickly 
turned, and with a most quizzical look 
said ; ' ' David would get credit in a 
steeple chase, 'tisn't every one that 
could leap the wall as he did last win- 
ter, but he broke his shaft." 

I made no answer, and pretended 
not to understand. 

"You needn't make believe you 
don't comprehend what I mean. You 
know last winter when Tea street was 
blocked up and the path led through 
my field, David Emery mistook and 
took a flying leap over the wall above 
the house instead of going below 
through the bars. He thought no one 
knew it. If the windows were boarded 
up I heard him. He broke his shaft I 
know. I wanted to go out to help 
him, but they said no one was there. 
I was bewitched. There was a line in 
the sleigh box to tie up the shaft. 
David tied it together ; then I heard 
the bells as he drove up the hill. 
David says old Mitchell has taught him 
to always go armed and equipped. 
That is a grand horse, and David is a 
good horseman ; not one in a thousand 
could have cleared that wall as he did. 
Oh, David's a trump ! But 3-011 do not 



know of whom I am speaking ! You 
know nothing of the gentleman nor his 
proceedings !" and with a prolonged 
laugh and most emphatic grimaces the 
lunatic pulled on his stocking and boot. 
Mrs. Hill caine in as she gave me her 
commission. I repeated what her hus- 
band had told me. She expressed 
great surprise, and said he must have 
guessed her intentions, as she had never 
mentioned them. His intuition and 
cunning were remarkable ; she some- 
times thought that she must join with 
aunt Ruth and pronounce him be- 


That spring David Emery made his 
first and last sea voyage. Though 
this short trip comprised the whole of 
his sea faring life, it brought that 
which many a veteran sailor who has 
circumnavigated the globe has failed 
to experience the horrors of a ship- 

Business suddenly summoned the 
young man to Eastport, District of 
Maine. He expected to be absent a 
month. In about three weeks I 
received a letter.' It had been long on 
the road, as in those unsettled regions 
the mail was chiefly transported in sad- 
dle bags by a carrier on horseback. 
David wrote that we might expect him 
by the middle of June. Friday, the 
sixteenth of June, dawned overcast 
and sultry ; scarcely a leaf stirred 
through the da}*, and the night came 
on murkj- and oppressive. About mid- 
night I was awakened by the wind, a 
gust struck with great force against the 
long, sloping, back roof. There was a 

furious squall for a few moments ; 
while the rain came in a torrent, the 
wind slightly abated, but a severe 
north-east storm set in, which con- 
tinued until noon Saturday. 

As we knew David must be near the 
coast, great anxiety was felt respect- 
ing him. Sundaj- passed without 
tidings, but Monda}- morning my 
brother Joseph learned at the grist 
mill in By field, that he had been cast 
away on Plum Island, and that his 
brother, Jeremiah Colman, brought him 
to his father's on Sunda}*. Mr. Perley, 
from whom the news was obtained, 
reported that no injury had been 
received to life or limb, "but he did 
wish we could have seen the figure 
David cut ; his clothes, especially his 
hat, all filled with lint from the sails, 
was a sight to behold." 

In the afternoon the young man 
drove over, looking none the worse for 
his disaster. After father had drawn 
a mug of his best cider, the traveller 
gave us a description of his adventures. 
Though the schooner in which he was 
forced to take passage was old and 
dirt}', the trip to Eastport was both 
quick and pleasant ; his speculation 
succeeded, and he was most hospitably 
entertained by most agreeable people. 
Business called him to a ne.v settle- 
ment up the St. Croix river. The only 
means of transportation was by a birch 
bark canoe, paddled b}* an Indian. 
The red-skin belonged to a tribe living 
above Eastport ; he haJ. come to the 
town to procure the wherewithal to cel- 
ebrate the nuptials of a daughter ; an 
addition to his purse was acceptable, 
and he readily agreed to take the 
3'oung man up the river that day and 
down the next. 

His directions as he seated his 



passenger in the bottom of the canoe 
were most strict and emphatic. " Sit 
straight, keep arms so, keep quiet, 
canoe go over just like dat," he said, 
snapping his fingers. "Me drown one 
white man, me never get no more white 
man to paddle." 

Knowing the nature of the frail bark 
Mr. Emery comforted himself with 
such discretion as to win the en- 
comiums of his companion, eliciting 
grunts of approbation. 

The da}* wore on. Hour after hour 
they glided up the broad, beautiful 
stream, bordered by the primeval 
forest. The grave, taciturn Indian 
bending to his task, the silence of the 
still June day unbroken, save by the 
dip of the paddle, the note of a bird, 
or the far away cry of some wild 
animal in the distance. 

Hungry and thirsty, weary from the 
cramped position, near sunset the 
3'oung man joyfully descried a clearing 
upon the bank, a little wharf project- 
ing into the river, and a clump of 
buildings in the back ground. 

Upon landing Mr. Emery learned 
that the gentleman he had come hither 
to seek was in Boston. A representa- 
tive from the " District of Maine," he 
had gone thither to attend the General 
Court, which at that time commenced 
its sittings at "Election,* which was 
on the last Wednesday in May. Though 
the mistress of the mansion expressed 
regret that her husband could not 
have the pleasure of entertaining the 
guest, he received the assurance that 
she possessed full power to facilitate the 
errand which had brought him there. 
Upon Mr. Emery's expressing his fears 
that his boatman might be an annoy- 
ance, she bade hind " have no concern, 
as she often entertained the Indians of 

the vicinity ; had a back room and 
blankets for their especial accommoda- 

The row back to Eastport was made 
in safety. The Indian had taken a 
fancy to his passenger, and invited him 
to his daughter's wedding ; press of 
business prevented the acceptance of 
this invitation, though it would have 
given the young man pleasure to have 
been present at such a novel enter- 
tainment. The Indian having made 
his purchases, a barrel of flour, one 
cwt. of pork, a keg of molasses, and 
two gallons of .rum, took leave; hav- 
ing been presented with a few trinkets 
for the bride, the gratified redskin un- 
der the influence of gratitude and us- 
quebaugh, affectionately hugged his 
"white brother," and with grunts of 
satisfaction seated himself amidst his 
possessions and slowly paddled home- 

Upon introduction to a young French 
priest, the cure of a Catholic mission 
up the river, Mr. Emery received an 
invitation to visit the station, which he 
did the next Sunday in companj- with 
a party of ladies and gentlemen. The 
church and mission house which stood 
in the midst of the Indian village, were 
heavy structures of rough stone, the 
surrounding huts were of slabs and 
boards, with garden patches showing 
rude attempt at cultivation. The 
church was well filled, many of the 
worshippers having come a long dis- 
tance through the forest. Several of 
the women had pappooses strapped on 
their shoulders in blankets. The men 
were tall and athletic, the elder women 
somewhat homely, but the younger 
ones rather good looking, some of the 
girls were decidedly pretty. Most of 
the women were gay with gew-gaws 



and feathers, their shapely feet showing 
to great advantage in their elaborately 
ornamented deerskin moccasins. His 
companion of the canoe was the first 
to greet Mr. Emery. His delight at 
again seeing his "white brother" was 
warmly expressed, and he hastened to 
fetch the bride and bridegroom and the 
other members of his family. The 
young cure was evidently beloved and 
respected, his flock were quiet and de- 
vout through the service. The party 
were hospitably entertained by the 
priest, who in the afternoon, in defer- 
ence to his guests, preached a fine ser- 
mon in English that in the morning 
had been delivered in French. This 
was Mr. Emery's introduction to that 
church which he had been taught to 
shun and abhor, but it gave a pleasing 
impression which ever after remained. 
The second week in June the Lucy 
Ann set sail for Newburyport. The 
crew consisted of the skipper and 
three men ; there were two passengers 
beside Mr. Emery, a Mr. Little, an 
Irishman by birth, and at that time do- 
ing business in Boston, and a 3 r oung 
man, belonging in Newburyport, by the 
name of Richardson. Off Boon Island 
the schooner was becalmed for several 
days and the passengers took the op- 
portunit}' to visit a farm-house there. 
The sixteenth the night closed in dark 
and foggy. Mr. Emery was awakened 
by the squall. Amid a terrible pitch- 
ing, snapping, creaking and flapping, 
the passengers made their way on deck. 
The rain poured like a flood, it was 
difficult to sustain a foothold, 'ever}-- 
thing was flying in every direction. 
The deck load of wood and bark was 
pitching hither and thither, pieces of 
bark being hurled mast high. The 
squall subsided, but the storm came on 

fierce and terrific. The skipper thought 
he was in the vicinity of Portsmouth, 
and every effort was made to clear the 
coast. Heavier grew the sea, stronger 
the blast. Sea after sea swept the 
deck, the roaring billows dashing to 
the mast head, raged around the frail 
craft, phosphorescent crested, one sheet 
of fitime. At length, to eveiyone's re- 
lief, the day dawned, but still the mist 
and spray shut in the sight. Suddenly 
came the cry, " a sail ahead ; " the fog 
at that moment slightly cleared, and in 
affrighted tones, the captain ejaculated, 
' ' My God ! It is Newburyport lights." 

He was an Eastern man, unacquaint- 
ed with the coast ; turning to his pas- 
senger, he demanded, " Emer} T , what 
ami to do?" 

The young man remembering Hamp- 
ton rocks, replied, " Keep her off, run 
to the leeward, clear the bar if possi- 

The captain "inquired if he could 
make Cape Ann harbor." Mr. Emery 
thought not, and shortly a tremendous 
sea which carried away the main boom 
settled the question. The weather had 
begun to clear, Mr. Emeiy could dis- 
cern that they were nearly abreast of 
the Plum Island hotel, and he advised 
beaching the craft immediately. The 
helm was turned, she swung slowly 
'round and headed for the shore. Those 
acquainted with the coast in a teriffic 
northeaster will appreciate the situa- 
tion.. On she went, thrown forward by 
the waves. A tremendous bump, then 
she swung back, but the next sea took 
her and with a second bump and bang, 
which carried the foremast and main- 
mast by the board, the Lucy Ann set- 
tled into the sand, her aqueous career 
forever ended. 

The storm abated, towards noon the 



rain ceased, and preparations were 
made to get a line on shore. Mr. 
Clifford, the landlord of the hotel, had 
espied the schooner, and with his boy 
was on the beach ready to render 
assistance, but who was the one to 
breast that thunderous surf? The lot 
fell upon a stalwart sailor who had 
been caught stealing from the passen- 
gers. Stripped to his shirt arid 
drawers, a rope secured around his 
waist, the stout fellow plunged into the 
swirl of waters, and, after a strenuous 
struggle, almost exhausted, he at 
length reached the land. The others 
prepared to follow. There was valu- 
able propert} T in the cabin ; Mr. Little 
had several thousand dollars on board, 
the other passengers a considerable 
sum, all in specie. It was thought 
that the hull would hold together. Mr. 
Emery went below to cord his trunk 
more securely, there he found young 
Richardson tying up a hundred silver 
dollars in a bandanna pocket-handker- 
chief. Mr- Emery vainly tried to per- 
suade the foolish fellow to return the 
money to his box, but he persisted in 
taking it on deck, where the first wave 
burst the frail envelope and a hundred 
silver dollars were added to the treas- 
ures of the deep. 

Mr. Little, not a swimmer, was fear- 
ful that he could not reach the shore by 
the line, but being duly encouraged a 
successful attempt was made, and the 
whole five reached terra finna without 

Refreshed and dried, as the weather 
had cleared and the tide turned, with 
the aid of Mr. Clifford's horse and cart 
the articles were taken from the 
schooner and brought safely to the 
hotel. Nothing was lost but Richard- 
son's silver. Mr. Clifford took the 

skipper to town. Mr. Little was so 
anxious that Mr. Emery should remain 
with him over night that the young 
man somewhat reluctantly consented. 
The merchant had made arrangements 
to go into business in Eastport, and he 
was solicitous to remove all traces of 
the disaster from his clothes and 
papers, in order that his wife should 
know nothing of it, as, if she did, he 
feared he never would be able to re- 
move her from Boston. 

During David's absence, his brother, 
Jeremiah Colman, had been married to 
Miss Mary Chute, daughter of Deacon 
James Chute of Byfield. Mr. Colman 
had been established in the butchering 
business in Newbur} T port for some 
time, and the young couple had set up 
housekeeping in half of the Pearson 
house on Charter street. Learning 
what had befallen David, Jerry drove 
to the Island and insisted on taking 


him to his house, where Mrs. Colman 
received him with sisterly affection, 
and every effort was made for his re- 
freshment and comfort. 

The hulk after lying some time in 
the sand was eventually broken up. 
The vessel had been insured at New- 
buryport, and at first some had de- 
murred respecting paying the insur- 
ance, but upon farther investigation it 
was promptly handed over. 


I have stated that Mr. Benjamin 
Colman purchased ' ' Slade's meeting- 
house," and having moved it near his 
residence, which was in the vicinity of 
the Byfield parsonage, fitted the build- 



ing for a seminar}-. The prospectus 
of the Female Academy, Byfield, pub- 
lished in the " Newburyport Herald," 
enumerates "Grammar, Arithmetic, 
Geography, Rhetoric, Composition, 
Painting and needle-work,'' as the 
branches taught. It adds : " It is ex- 
pected that a gentleman of Christian 
education will, general!}', every day 
visit the Seminary, and if occasion 
require, lend assistance in teaching 
the higher branches of study, or 
give instruction on those topics which 
may promote the general object of 
female education." Miss Rebecca 
Hardy was the first teacher, Miss Re- 
becca Hazeltine succeeded as princi- 
pal, and her younger sister, Ann, after- 
ward Mrs. Judson, one of the first 
American missionaries to India, acted 
as assistant. A school of from forty 
to fifty pupils was gathered, young 
ladies from the wealthier families in the 
neighborhood and surrounding coun- 
try, with others from places more 
remote. The summer of which I am 
writing there were several from Xew 
Hampshire, and the interior towns of 
Massachusetts. Some of the older 
pupils were affianced to clergymen, 
and had placed themselves under Miss 
Hazeltine's instruction, the better to 
qualify themselves for the dignified and 
responsible position of a minister's 
wife. Amongst these was Miss Lucy 
Brown, afterwards Mrs. Demond of 
the upper parish in "West Newbury. 

The Misses Hazeltine and some half 
dozen of the pupils boarded with Dr. 
Parish, a number were accommodated 
in the families of Messrs. Benjamin and 
Moses Colman, the others were located 
in the vicinity. Miss Lucy Brown 
boarded with Mr. Moses Colman, and 
she became such a favorite that in after 

years her sojourn in the family was 
often referred to with pleasure. 

According to the prospectus, clergy- 
men frequented the school to lecture 
and attend to its interests. To young 
students about entering the ministry 
this seminary was a special attraction. 
The pupils were often in a flutter of 
excitement over this and that young 
minister, and several engagements were 
formed. One morning a very piously 
disposed youth appeared, whom the 
principal introduced as the Rev. Mr. 
, adding, "that having deter- 

mined to consecrate his life to the con- 
version of heathen in foreign lands, he 
had come to enquire if any one of the 
young ladies present could so far deny 
herself and take up her cross as to 
accompany him as his soul's partner in 
his work for Christ and Him crucified. 
If either of the misses felt that she 
could do so, put her whole heart into 
the holy work, she would please rise." 
As the sound died on the teacher's lips, 
up jumped every girl in the room. All 
were ready to be given as lambs to the 
sacrifice. After much suppressed laugh- 
ter, some blushes and confusion, the 
matter was deferred to another time, 
but in a few weeks the missionary 
bore away a bride. 

From time immemorial it had been 
the custom for parties to visit Plurn 
Island, in September, when the plums 
were ripe. Families joined through- 
out the neighborhood, or the vouno- 

f / O 

men and maidens, in as smart turnouts 
as could be secured, gaily hied, in a 
long procession, to spend a day or an 
afternoon in innocent amusement. Sev- 
eral parties of married people in Bv- 
field had made this annual excursion, 
and as some of the young ladies at the 
Seminary from the interior towns, who 



had never seen the sea, had expressed 
a desire for the ride, the young gen- 
tlemen of the parish resolved them- 
selves into a committee to make the 
necessary arrangements for a Plum 
Island party. Pains were taken to 
make it in every respect a first-class 
affair, the most perfect etiquette being 
observed in the invitations and arrange- 
ments. The intelligence of what was 
afoot, reached the Seminary a day or 
two prior to the issue of the invita- 
tions, making quite a stir amongst the 
pupils. The preceptress made no ob- 
jection to the proposed recreation, but 
the younger assistant, Miss Ann, or as 
she was then termed Miss Nancy, set 
up such a violent opposition that 
it reached the ears of the gentle- 
men. Amongst the most prominent of 
the By field beaux, was Joseph Noyes, 
son of Mr. Lemuel Noyes. Of a 
wealthy family and liberally educated, 
with a pleasing person and address, 
this 3'oung man had been selected as 
the most suitable escort for Miss Nanc} T 
Ilazeltine, but upon learning her disap- 
proval of the party, he paid his devoirs 
elsewhere, and several of the girls 
sought Dr. Parish's advice respecting 
the propriety of accepting their invita- 
tions. The Doctor said go. " He was 
proud and pleased that the young men 
of his society had thus given them the 
opportunity to view the beauty, wonder 
and sublimity of the mighty ocean." 
That summer Mr. Moses Colman had 
purchased a new chaise. This stylish 
vehicle, the hight of ton, had a* square, 
canvas covered top, with a body 
painted in bright vermillion, the rest of 
the wood-work dark brown, the lining 
and cushions were of drab broadcloth, 
and an oilcloth covered the floor. Da- 
vid Emery owned a horse ; Daniel Col- 

man would take his father's, but which 
should have the chaise? Poor Mr. 
Colman puzzled over this problem all 
one morning. At length a happj* idea 
suggested itself which was ihade 
known at the dinner table. Much to 
his son's astonishment the old gentle- 
man, in his loud, cheery tones, abrupt- 
ly exclaimed: " Boys the one that 
carries the best girl to Plum Island 
shall have the new chaise." 

An addition was building to Mr. 
Colman's house : at the table were two 
joiners from West Newbury, Mr. 
Jonathan Chase and Daniel Silloway. 
Before the disconcerted young men 
could reply, Mr. Chase exclaimed : 
"Then David must have the chaise, 
for he will take Sallie Smith, and she 
is the best girl in West Newbury." 
" Good, good," the gentlemen replied 
with delight. David shall have the 
chaise. Daniel, as soon you have 
swallowed your dinner go over to 
Mose Dole's and hire the best chaise 
he has." 

Chaise making had already become 
a thriving business in West Newbury, 
but Mr. Moses Dole of Byfield did 
most of the blacksmith work. The 
different artisans often clubbed together 
to build a lot of chaises, which were 
divided amongst them ; this caused 
Mr. Dole to usually have a number of 
these vehicles for sale or to let. 

The anticipated morning at length 
dawned clear and bright, a lovely Sep- 
tember clay. Mrs. Colman had insist- 
ed that I should come over to Byfield 
and dine. David came for me about 
ten o'clock. The new chaise was re- 
splendent, and " Bob," a chubby sor- 
rel horse had been groomed to match, 
and the silver mounted harness was as 
lustrous as whiting could polish. David 



in a handsome new suit looked as ele- 
gant as his equipage. White cambric 
or dimity was the fashionable dress for 
such an occasion. I wore white cam- 
bric, and a straw bonnet trimmed with 
a broad, white, lutestring ribbon. 

David was in high spirits. He had 
just returned from Boston, and enter- 
tained me during the ride with a de- 
scription of his visit. He had dined 
with his friend, Charles Parsons, at 
his father's, Judge Parsons' mansion. 
Charles had great!}' diverted his visitor 
by introducing his youngest brother as, 
" this is oui' Thof, a great sarpint, just 
like pa." 

At dinner the judge had been espec- 
ially entertaining. After minute in- 
quires respecting his boyhood's home, 
he fell to recounting anecdotes of his 
school days. The parsonage boys, as 
is proverbial of minister's sons, had 
been great rogues. 

' ' One day in mid winter their 
teacher was invited to dine at the par- 
sonage. He was a self-sufficient, pom- 
pous coxcomb, much disliked by his 
pupils, and the minister's boys deter- 
mined upon a practical joke. The 
snow was frozen hard, and the master, 
to shorten the distance, had come 
across lots from his boarding place. 
After dinner, while the pedagogue was 
sipping hot punch, and smoking a pipe 
with their father, his hopeful pupils 
proceeded to crack the ice in a small 
stream which their teacher would pass 
on his way home. This accomplished, 
they hid amidst some alders. It was a 
tedious while to wait, for the punch 
and tobacco were good, the minister 
entertaining, and his parlor warm and 
pleasant. At length towards dusk 
their patience was rewarded. The 
lord of the birch was descried ap- 

proaching, swinging his cane, full of 
self-importance and good cheer. Proud 
of having dined at the parsonage, he 
strutted forward with an increased as- 
sumption of arrogance, dressed in his 
gold-laced cocked hat, velvet coat and 
breeches, silk stockings, and gaiters. 
On he came, his head high in air, his 
cane twirling from his fingers, on on 

crack crackle splash splurge 

kersouse went the discomfitted Doin- 
inee knee deep in the brook, much to 
his chagrin and ire, and to the huge 
delight of the watchers amid the alders. 

There were several sous, and one of 
the younger boys having inherited all 
the worn, dog-eared school books of 
his elder brothers, determined that 
they should descend no farther ; so as 
fast as a leaf was committed to mem- 
ory he tore it out and crammed it into 
a hole in the wall beside his desk, thus 
at the end of the study the book was 
minus, excepting covers. Lem. Noyes, 
a somewhat loutish, dull boy, often 
became a butt for their jokes. They 
had excited his wrath, and he had 
threatened to thrash them. He was 
larger and stronger than the minis- 
ter's sons ; the}- knew they stood no 
chance in an encounter of fisticuffs, so 
they concocted a plan to get the better 
of their school-mate. In the vicinity 
of the school house was a tan yard, 
and having laid some loose boards over 
one of the vats, they challenged Lem. 
to .a race. The unsuspecting youth 
eagerly joining in the sport, of course 
was permitted to get ahead ; proud of 
his agility, the poor fellow rushed for- 
ward with a tremendous effort, to sud- 
denly find himself lying among the 
hides. Amongst the scholars was a 
negro boy. Most of the families in 
Bvfield in the olden time held one or 



more slaves, and there was usually 
quite a sprinkling of the sable hue 
amongst the pupils of the district 
school. The boys under pretence of 
dressing the darky's head saturated his 
wool with oil, then they put him up to 
some prank for which he was sure to 
receive punishment. The teacher was 
the one who had received the cold bath, 
a great dandy, always foppishly attired. 
Coming up the aisle and noticing the 
delinquent he gave the little nig a 
sound cuff in the side of the head which 
spattered the oil all over his fine 
clothes. The master in impotent rage 
glanced over the school house. The 
parson's boys were the impersonation 
of serious studiousness, and the other 
scholars, though wholly innocent of the 
trick, but many of whom having wit- 
nessed the transaction were on the 
broad grin, received the castigation 
which was so richly deserved else- 

I was greatty amused at these 
stories, and the ride seemed unusually 
short. Some ten years previous New- 
bury had received an heir, a two years 
old boy of African lineage. What was 
to be done with this waif? The over- 
seers of the poor met to decide. It 
was customary to put such children, to 
remain until twenty-one, into a family, 
which received a small compensation 
from the town until the child was seven 
years old ; after that his services were 
considered a sufficient remuneration. 
Somebody must take little Charles 
Fields, but where could this somebody 
be found? Mr. Colman's sons always 
averred, " that father was never satis- 
fied unless he had a parrot, a monkey 
and a nigger." The black baby with 
his round woolly head, shining eyes 
and glistening teeth, fairly won the 

benevolent gentleman's heart, and as 
no one else offered, he armfulled up 
little Charley, and an hour later, much 
to Mrs. Colman's astonishment, he 
placed the bo}~ in her lap, with the in- 
junction "to take care of the little ras- 
cal." The command was faithfully exe- 
cuted. Charles received every privi- 
lege that had been accorded to the sons 
of the family, with the exception of the 
academic course at Dummer Academy. 
I am sorry to say that a poor return 
was received for this trouble and care. 
The little black rascal grew up a big 
rascal, causing much vexation until his 
decease, which occurred in middle life. 
At this time he was a stout lad of 
thirteen. Cap in hand, with a pro- 
found obeisance and a great display of 
ivory, he swung aside the gate at the 
head of the avenue as we drove up. 

Mrs. Colman gave me a cordial, and 
Mr. Colman a rapturous greeting. 
" Had he not always promised that I 
should be David's little wife ? " I was 
introduced to Mr. and Mrs. John 
Colman. John, the oldest son of 
Deacon Colman, had married a lady by 
the name of Danforth. This couple 
signalized themselves by their migra- 
tory life, during which they made 
thuty-two removals. Some half doz- 
en of these were between Byfield 
and Maine. Mrs. Colman used to 
boast that she had crossed the ocean 
between Newburyport and the District 
of Maine fourteen times, and she 
would add, "the happiest time in my 
life was when I was midway in these 
removals ; at that point I was rejoicing 
at having left the old place and look- 
ing forward with hope to the new." 

As was natural, these rolling stones 
gathered little moss, but always san- 
guine and cheerful, they passed as 



happy and contented a life as either of 
the family. At this time the}* were 
paying a farewell visit to their brother 
prior to one of their Sittings eastward. 

During the Revolutionary war Dea- 
con Colman had filled an army order 
for boots and shoes. These with other 
clothing Moses had taken in mid-win- 
ter to New. Jersey in a covered cart 
, drawn by a span of horses. 

During dinner Mr. Colmaii gave a 
graphic description of the ragged and 
desolate appearance of our troops, on 
his arrival at Morristown, just at the 
close of that winter so memorable for 
suffering, and the joy with which his 
arrival was hailed. 

" Yes," exlaimed old Mitchell, " and 
the shoes were a good honest make, 
but the stockings, most of them, were a 
darned cheat, and the woman that could 
thus deceive a poor soldier must have a 
mighty small soul." The hose had been 
knit loose, then stretched on a board 
fashioned like a last ; when washed they 
shrunk so as to be scarcely wearable. 
This was in the good old times ; human 
nature is much alike in all generations. 

The rendezvous for the party had 
been appointed at Deacon Ben. Col- 
man's. From a dozen to fifteen chaises 
formed in procession, and gaily trot- 
ted to the island. Our visit was ex- 
pected. Mr. Clifford and his waiters 
were profuse in their attention. We 
were ushered into the parlor, wine hav- 
ing been served, we proceeded amid 
much fun and frolic, to make our wav 
to the beach over the loose sand. 
Joseph Noyes escorted a Miss Parkis, 
the daughter of Dr. Parkis, a distin- 
guished physician of Hanover ; and 
Daniel Colman, Miss Betsy Smith, a 
great witch, and the only daughter of 
a wealthy family in Dover. Miss Par- 

kis and Mr. Noyes were very merry 
at Miss Nancy Hazeltine's expense. 
As Mr. Noyes 'drove up to take Miss 
Parkis, Miss Hazeltine, glancing from 
the window, exclaimed, "there's Joe. 
Noyes, he has come to take me to Plum 
Island, but he will find I do not coun- 
tenance such frivolity." To her cha- 
grin Miss Parkis tripped down the 
stairs, Mr. Noyes assisted her into the 
chaise, and with a polite salutation to 
Miss Nancy at the window, drove 

After a merry afternoon, we returned 
to the hotel, where an elegant supper 
awaited us, spread in the iipper hall. 
At its close, as it was near sunset, the 
chaises were ordered. At Newbury- 
port Mr. Emery and myself bade the 
others good evening, and took the di- 
rect route for West Newbury. 

The young ladies at the Seminary 
were so delighted with their excursion, 
that girl-like they gave enthusiastic 
descriptions of the ride. This brought 
such severe animadversions from the 
assistant teacher, that her pupils, some 
of them as old, or older than herself, 
lost patience. The matter spread 
amongst the gentlemen, and the big 
scamps, in the total depravity _of their 
unregenerate hearts, planned a practi- 
cal joke at the expense of the lady 
whom they regarded as righteous over- 
much. I never knew who originated 
the plot, but strongly suspect that it 
might have sprung from the creative 
brains of Miss Betsy Smith and Daniel 
Colman. Few that only knew the 
staid man in after years, could compre- 
hend what a gay fellow he then was. 

In Mr. Colman' s employ was a young 
man, the son of a deceased pastor of 
Rowley, John Jewett, a very clever, 
but rather simple fellow, who was in- 



formed that he ought to invite Miss Haz- 
eltine to go to Plum Island. " She re- 
ceived no invitation at the time of the 
party ; for the honor of Byfield this over- 
sight ought to be repaired. A clergy- 
man's son, he was the one for her escort. 
He should have the new chaise and 
David's horse, the most stylish equip- 

At first John demurred, but his cour- 
age having been raised by the bribe of 
a pound of tobacco, an article of which 
he was inordinately fond, a few eve- 
nings after the party, the young man 
all in his best and he always dressed 
handsomely dashed up to Dr. Parish's 
door, in the unexceptionable turnout, 
and inquired for Miss Nancy Hazeltine. 
Upon that lady's appearance, in his 
most courtly manner, and he was very- 
well bred, he requested the pleasure of 
her company on a ride to Plum Island 
the next afternoon. Miss Nancy drew 
back in surprise and horror, and with 
an indignant exclamation, slammed the 
door in the face of the astonished gal- 
lant, who after standing a moment on 
the door-stone in bewildered astonish- 
ment, returned to the chaise, and drove 
home with curses both loud and deep 
upon his lips. Miss Nancy sought her 
room in such an Irysterical excitement 
that it roused the household. 

Dr. Parish was subject to slight fits 
of illness, accompanied by great de- 
pression of spirits, his hypo spells, 
his wife denominated them. He had 
been suffering from one of these at- 
tacks, had been confined to his bed sev- 
eral days, but upon learning what had 
occurred he rose, and hurrying on 
his clothes, summoned the young teach- 
er to his presence. She appeared irate 
and sobbing. Bidding her be seated, 
the clergyman exclaimed, "Why, Miss 

Nancy, I am surprised at this excite- 
ment. Do not let your feelings be 
wounded ! John Jewett is a very esti- 
mable young man, very estimable. He 
is a minister's son, Miss Nancy, his 
father was a very worthy man, old Par- 
son Jewett of Rowley. Dry your eyes, 
and compose your spirits, my dear, no 
harm is done, John is a deserving 
young man, a minister's son, Miss Nan- 
cy, a minister's son." 

Somewhat mollified, Miss Nancy re- 
tired, and the clergyman called for tea 
and toast, entirely cured of his hypo. 


Mj r father had reached his goal. By 
industry and economy the whole of the 
ancestral acres had been secured. His 
heart was in his work ; he was a good 
agriculturalist, and had given great at- 
tention to fruit culture. He had plant- 
ed and grafted some two or three hun- 
dred apple trees ; there was quite a va- 
riety of pears and a thriving peach or- 
chard on the place. Grapes grew 
spontaneously. The stone walls were 
covered with vines which bore luxuri- 
antly large, luscious clusters both of 
the purple and white grapes. There 
was a difference in the quality of this 
wild fruit, some being equal if not su- 
perior to that produced in our gardens 
at the present time. The farm on the 
September of that year presented a 
tempting array of fruit. The trees 
never looked finer than on the twelfth 
of the month. The da}* was warm and 
cloudy ; at dusk it began to rain. I 
had a piece of linen whitening on the 



grass ; fearing it might mildew, I went 
to take it in, and was struck by the sul- 
try stillness of the night. After I went 
to my chamber, I sat some time at the 
open window enjoying the quiet rain 
which was falling steadily. About mid- 
night I was awakened by the unbarring 
of the front door, and mother screaming 
' ' something terrible is coming ! " as 
she hastily opened and closed it. At 
the moment a strange rush and roar 
struck my ear, rapidly advancing. I 
could liken it to nothing but wagons 
rattling over frozen ground, but it 
more nearly resembled the noise of a 
railroad train. Lightning flashed, 
thunder pealed, and rain poured in tor- 
rents. Springing from bed, I seized 
my sister, a girl of ten, and with the 
half awakened child descended the 
stairs, and passing through the front 
entry, entered the west room. The 
rush, roar, crash and din are wholly- 
indescribable, accompanied by such 
dense darkness, that not a thing was 
discernible. Half way across the 
front room, we were stopped by a ter- 
rible bang and crack, at the same mo- 
ment a missile was hurled through the 
broken window, which, striking Susan, 
fell in the fire-place opposite. The 
child shrieked fearfully ; dragging her 
by the arm, I rushed into the kitchen 
screaming, "Sukey is dead, Suke}' is 
dead ! " 

The whole family had collected in the 
room. The cry was for a light, but in 
the fright and confusion not a candle- 
stick of the number always there could 
be found. I mustered sufficient compo- 
sure to bring a candle from the box in 
the cellar-way ; raking open the embers 
on the hearth it was quickly lighted. 
Speedily as this had been effected, by 
the time I had put it in the candle-stick 

the tornado had passed. As I turned 
to place the light on the table, the moon 
burst from the clouds, its beams falling 

7 O 

brightly on the white floor. Father 
opened the baqk door. With the ex- 
clamation, "I am ruined!" he sallied 
back into a chair and buried his face 
in his hands. Pale and disma^-ed, 
we peered forth. At first nothing was 
distinguishable but one general wreck 
and ruin, unroofed buildings, prostrate 
trees and fences, mixed with the debris 
of broken fanning tools and household 
utensils. My father was not a man to 
long succumb to misfortune. Proceed- 
ing to dress, he bade the boys get into 
their clothes. Our first thought was of 
the cows. As we stepped out to seek 
them, we met uncle Thurrell, his son 
and hired man. They were still too 
much confused to know the extent of 
the injury done to their premises, but 
the barn was partly unroofed, the corn 
barn tipped over, and the cider mill, a 
large,jheavy building, had been lifted 
from its foundation and carried several 
rods. The cows were safe, crouched 
together, a frightened group in the field, 
and two cossets that had been with them 
in the cow-yard had taken refuge in the 
barn, the doors of which had been 
burst open. The horse had been at 
pasture half a mile away, but as the 
men and boys went out she came whin- 
nying towards them. Whether she ran 
or blew home we never knew, but she 
evidently had a long story to tell, if it 
could have been understood. 

Nearly half of the roof of our house 
was gone, and a third of that of the 
long barn. A large shed had been 
blown from the end of the barn and 
flung against the end of the house. 
The concussion, as this came against the 
wall, was the cause of my fright as I 



crossed the room with my sister. From 
seventy to eighty trees laid on the 
ground. A cart loaded with ha^', that 
had been left the previous evening front 
of the barn, had entirely disappeared, 
not a vestige of it was ever seen except- 
ing one wheel which la}* near the back 
door. Two heavy ox-sleds piled in the 
yard, had been carried a considerable 
distance ; barrels, boxes, etc. had been 
taken from the garret with the roof and 
scattered about the yard, amongst these 
was a basket of feathers, which had 
been set down unharmed b} T the front 
door. A brass kettle, that had been 
hanging by the back door, was found 
some weeks after, battered and bent, 
in a swamp a quarter of a mile away. 
The potatoes were blown from the hills. 
The shed that had come from the barn 
had shielded the wood-pile, and the 
milk-pails at the end of the house were 
found hanging upon the stakes. 

Upon examination it was found that 
about the same number of trees had 
been uprooted on uncle ThurrelTs place 
as ours ; the Doles also sustained some 
injury to their orchard, but their build- 
ings stood below the track of the hur- 
ricane. On Ilsley's hill, the barn doors 
and the back door of the house were 
unhinged, and the cow-yard fence was 
thrown down. Jonathan Ilsley, going 
home from a party, to his surprise, 
found the cows in the corn field ; as he 
drove them home, he saw the injury to 
the premises. Hastening into the 
house he awoke the family to learn what 
had happened, but not a soul could tell ; 
their slumbers had been so sound, the 
storm had not awakened them. 

Farther on, the barn of Mr. Daniel 
Ordway was entirely demolished. Da}~- 
light disclosed a straight line of pros- 
trate trees, the path of the tornado as 

it had passed over Bradford woods, but 
after leaving Mr. Ordway 's, little dam- 
age was done ; its track was, however, 
traced to a wharf in Newburyport, 
where it overturned a small building. 

The next morning we learned that a 
small house, about four miles above us 
in Bradford had been destroyed, one 
child killed and the rest of the family 
injured. The furniture of this house 
was widely scattered. A bonnet be- 
longing to the mistress of the place be- 
ing found in the lower parish of West 
Newbury, some distance beyond Ord- 
wa}"'s barn. Before sunrise Mr. Ste- 
phen Noyes from the main road coming 
over Crane-neck street, on his way to 
the grist mill at Byfield, to his conster- 
nation descried the havoc on the top of 
the hill. Scarcely crediting his sight, 
he drew rein at Mr. Pillsbury's. The 
family had just risen ; neither they nor 
that of then- opposite neighbor, Mr. 
Stephen Little, had been awakened by 
the tornado. In a body these neigh- 
bors hastened to our house. At that 
moment, David Goodrich, a young man 
residing a quarter of a mile below, rode 
furiously up the lane. The party that 
Mr. Ilsley had attended, had been at 
his house. Dancing had continued till 
past twelve ; in the merriment no one 
had heeded the shower, and when the 
company dispersed the sky was clear, 
and the moon was shining. Going to 
the barn in the morning, and chancing 
to glance up the hill, to his utter amaze- 
ment and fright, he saw the devasta- 
tion. Stopping neither for coat nor 
saddle, he mounted his horse and gal- 
loped to our aid. The neighborhood, 
and ere long, the whole town was 
aroused ; many came from B}'field, and 
some from Newburyport. Bands were 
organized, and everybody went to 



work with a will to repair the dam- 
age. Amongst the first and most 
zealous, was Mr. Edward Hill. By 
seven o'clock he came in bearing his 
tools ; with a perfectly rational air he 
quietly inspected the buildings, then 
set to work with an industry which 
continued until the premises were again 
in order. 

Derricks were rigged, and the process 
of resetting the apple trees commenced. 
The hurricane came Wednesday night ; 
before sunset Saturda}' evening every 
tree had been replaced, and the build- 
ings covered. Nothing remained un- 
done, but the repairing of fences, and 
a general setting to rights of small 
things about the house and grounds. 
I believe that even* one of those trees 
lived, some presenting rather a crooked 
and gnarled appearance, but \-ear by 
year they bore a goodly burden, and 
several are still standing vigorous and 


Prior to my birth there had been an 
exodus of Xewbury people to the wilds 
of New Hampshire ; Littles, Gerrishs, 
Coffins, Pillsburys, Pearsons and Dodg- 
es. These settled in the town of Bos- 
cawen. The Littles established them- 
selves on a long and high hill, much 
resembling " Crane-neck in their native 
town. There is a legend " that the Lit- 
tles always settled on high ground, and 
purchased the land that joined them." 
Not a lovelier spot could have been 
selected than "Little's Hill." Kear- 
sarge uprearing its lofty head near by, 
and the Blackwater meandering in the 
distance. A tract of land belonging to 

the estate of the'father of David Em- 
ery, was located in Boscawen ; thither 
Mr. Colman annually drove a herd of 
cows for pasturage, the milking and 
cheese-making being done in the fami- 
ly of Mr. Joseph Little. In this way 
the sons of the Byfield household be- 
came almost domesticated in the place. 
For several years it had been the cus- 
tom for these Boscawen farmers, du- 
ring the winter leisure, to go to Mas- 
sachusetts and purchase fresh fish, 
which, in a frozen state, were taken 
in box sleds drawn by a span of 
horses, to Montreal in Canada, where 
they met with a ready sale at renumer- 
ative price during Lent. A return load 
of furs and other articles rendered 
these trips exceeding!}- profitable. 

Having from boyhood heard the ac- 
counts of these journeys, David Em- 
ery conceived a strong desire to visit 
Montreal and try his luck in a venture 
there. On the twenty-seventh of De- 
cember, he joined a party consisting of 
Messrs. Enoch and Joseph Gerrish. 
Mr. Nathan Carter and a Mr. Clough. 
After a month's absence, he returned 
highly delighted with the trip, which 
had combined both pleasure and profit. 

I was* making my usual winter visit 
in town and had gone to pass a day at 
Mr. Jeremiah Column's. A shadow 
darkened the window ; glancing up. to 
our surprise, as he had not been expect- 
ing for a week, whom should we espy 
but David Emery. The dinner hour 
was enlivened by the young man's 
graphic account of the journey. His 
companions were a jolly set. the mam- 
little blunders and mishaps inseparable 
from such a trip, had given amusement 
rather than annoyance. The inconven- 
ience of the small and crowded houses 
of entertainment had been received in 



the same spirit. I never yet saw a 
Gerrish that could not extract some fun 
from his surroundings, let them be ever 
so dismal. Mr. Emer}- had been ex- 
ceedingly entertained with the novelt}' 
of French Canadian life. He was 
pleased with their stoves, and especially 
praised their bread. Montreal im- 
pressed him favorably, though the cold 
was so intense during the whole of his 
stay, that " you are freezing," was the 
hourly cry from one person to another 
on the street. Notwithstanding the 
bitter weather he managed to see the 
cit}'. His busines brought him in con- 
tact with the officers of the garrison, 
and lie made many pleasant acquaintan- 
ces, and was shown much attention and 
hospitality. He attended high mass at 
the cathedral, thus getting a sight of va- 
rious dignitaries, and a knowledge of 
the pomp of the service of that church 
to which he had been introduced in the 
wilderness. A description of a swap 
of horses on the plains of Abraham, 
elicited peals of laughter. Thither the 
farmers around Montreal were wont to 
gather on certain days for the barter 
and sale of horses. One of Mr. Em- 
ery's horses having become quite lame, 
he was desirous to exchange if for the 
home journey*, but totally unacquainted 
with French, he was at a loss how to 
manage. Having spoken to his friends 
upon the subject, he was directed to 
ride out to the plains, he would find the 
dealers drawn up in a line, he must 
ride out before them, waving his whip 
and uttering an indescribable cry, some- 
thing not belonging to an} r known lan- 
guage, but which was peculiar!}* ludi- 
crous. Doing as directed, he made a 
good exchange, procured a strong, kind 
horse. His load home consisted of 
sewing-silk and furs. He brought me 

some splendid sable skins, which were 
made into an elegant muff and tippet, 
the tippet, a deep cape with long ends, 
and the muff of the huge dimensions 
worn in those days. This was my first 
visit to Newburyport since General 
Peabody's family had taken possession 
of their fine new mansion on State, 
corner of Harris street, the lower half 
of the present Merrimac House 

The estate upon which my uncle's 
palatial residence was built, had for- 
merly extended up State, nearly to 
High, and down to the estate of 
Dr. Lowell, afterward the site of the 
Tracj- mansion, thence it ran back to 
Green street. Harris street was cut 
through the grounds, thus deriving its 
name. The Harrises had been a dis- 
tinguished colonial family. The Rev. 
Henry Harris, the father of Benjamin 
Harris, the proprietor of the State 
street property, was one of the first 
missionaries sent from England, to fill 
the rectorship of King's Chapel, Bos- 
ton. The oldest daughter of Benja- 
min Harris, who was an enterprising 
merchant, married Joseph Hooper, a 
son of "King Hooper" of Marblehead. 
Mr. Hooper, a loyalist, left this country 
with man}- others of like view in 1774. 
He never returned, and his property 
in Marblehead was confiscated. His 
wife reside* in the Harris mansion un- 
til her death,' when Gen. Peabody pur- 
chased it. A handsome house of the 
ante-Revolutionary style, the new pro- 
prietor was by many strongly urged 
not to build, but three-storied brick 
houses were going up on all sides, and 
my uncle concluded to follow the fash- 

The Harris mansion was sold to E. 
and I. Swett, and moved to Maryborough 
street. The new house, in the archi- 



tecture common for a genteel residence 
at that period, was a square, brick struc- 
ture, with a flat roof edged by a wooden 
balustrade, a portico over the front en- 
trance on State street, and a side door, 
with a long L and shed extending to the 
stable on Harris street. In the rear 
stretched a garden handsomely laid out 
the trim parterres then in vogue, and well 
stocked with choice flowers and fruits. 
The principal entrance opened into a 
hall, a door leading to the garden at the 
lower end. To the left two parlors 
opened to each other b}* folding doors ; 
to the right was the sitting or dining 
room, and across the end entry came 
the kitchen. The chambers in both 
stories corresponded to the rooms be- 
low ; and from the upper stovy and the 
roof a magnificent view of the sur- 
rounding countn', the river and bay, 
were obtained. In the L a large outer 
kitchen had been fitted with a ' Rum- 
ford Cookery." This was a' huge con- 
trivance of brick and masouiy invented 
b}' the celebrated Count Rurnford. It 
had several boilers of different sizes, 
and other devices to facilitate domestic 
purposes, with apertures under each 
for a wood fire. The furnishing of 
this new house corresponded to it in 
elegance : that of the best room was 
handsomely carved mahogany with cov- 
erings of a golden tinted dftmask, and 
curtains to match ; with marble top ta- 
bles, and mai'ble mantels and hearths, 
which were imported from Italy. A 
marble topped side-boad and a piano 
had been purchased in Paris ; the carpets 
were from English looms, and the rest 
of the furniture was as splendid as 
American warehouses could furnish. 

During my visit aunt Peabody invi- 
ted some of the neighboring young la- 
dies and gentlemen to tea ; thus I was 

introduced to a circle, most of whom 
became life-long friends. There were 
the Misses Balch, their brothers and Mr. 
Hudson, (Miss Fanny Balch was not 
then married.) the Misses Frothingham 
and their brother Mr. Henry Frothing- 
ham, and Mr. John Chickering. Each 
of this merry group, including my 
cousin, Sophronia Peabody, four years 
nry junior, have finished their earthly 
career, and gone to the eternal home ; 
I alone am left to tell the tale. 


A farm adjoining my grandfather 
Little's was owned by two brothers. Jo- 
siah and Amos Hill. In 1806 these 
gentlemen sold the estate to my uncle 
Enoch Smith, and, in company with 
Mr. Frank Brown, repaired to a town- 
ship in the District of Maine, on the 
Pleasant river, a tributary of the 
Peuobscot, some forty miles above Ban- 
gor. A settlement was begun on the 
river, called Brownville, in honor of 
Mr. Moses Brown of Xewburyport, 
who held a large interest in the loca- 
tion. Mills were erected at the falls on 
the river, and farms were cleared from 
the forest. Fifty acres of land was 
presented to airy settler who would 
erect buildings and cultivate a farm. 

This flitting caused a great excite- 
ment in our quiet town. We had the 
bustle of uncle Enoch's family moving 
to then* new home, and though we were 
glad of the additional room, the house 
seemed strangely still and lonely. with 
only grandm'am and aunt Sarah. 

Maj. Josiah Hill was an energetic, 



enterprising man, and both himself 
and brother were a loss to our com- 
munity. The preparations for this 
new home in the wilderness were nec- 
essarily upon a large scale, many hands 
were kept busy for several weeks. 

This enterprise proved eminently 
successful. Each year some of the 
emigrants visited then- old home, and 
brought glowing accounts of the settle- 
ment. Maj. Hill's oldest son, Samuel, 
had remained in town, but the third 
year after his father's departure, he 
concluded to join him. An urgent re- 
quest was sent to Hannah Bailey, a 
niece of Mrs. Josiah Hill, to accom- 
pam r her cousin ; her aunt insisted that 
she should come and stay a year. 
Hannah was just seventeen, a bright, 
black-eyed girl, ambitious and capa- 
ble ; fearing nothing, and ready for 
anything, it was but natural that she 
should be eager for the expedition. Her 
father and mother, after a time, gave 
a somewhat reluctant consent to the 
visit, but most of the family were ve- 
hement in their opposition. Aunt Poll, 
a maiden sister of Mr. Bailey, was 
especially exercised respecting her niece. 
" Brother and sister must be clean dis- 
traught, to permit that harum, scarum 
witch to go sich a jaunt. Wiry, if 
she escaped the dangers of the sea ? 
there was rivers to cross, and nobodj* 
knew how man}' miles of woods to ride 
through afore she could get to Major 
Hill's. Woods all full of wild beasts, 
bears, catamounts and sich like, every 
kind of ravenous animals ; she shouldn't 
be surprised if the Behemoth of Scrip- 
ter was a roving round in them ere 
dark, tangled thickets, all full of snakes 
and other venomous reptiles." 

Notwithstanding aunt Poll's and the 
others' remonstrances, Hannah, not 

the least daunted at their dire prognos- 
tications, sailed in October from New- 
bun-port, with her cousin Sam. Hill, in 
an old schooner bound for Bangor. 
The trip was made in safety. Not 
much troubled with sea-sickness, the 
novelty was such, Miss Bailey counted 
the inconvenience of the voyage as 
nought. The weather became unusu- 
ally severe for the season, and the ice 
formed so fast the skipper was com- 
pelled to land his passengers twelve 
miles below Bangor. Mr. Hill had 
taken his horse, so another must be 
procured for his cousin, as there was 
no carnage road to Brownville. Pro- 
ceeding to Bangor to make arrange- 
ments, Mr. Hill unexpectedly found a 
younger brother, who had come thither 
to pursue his studies through the win- 
ter. His horse was to have been taken 
home at the first opportunity. It was 
young and spirited, but Hannah Bailey 
was an experienced and fearless rider, 
and it was decided that she should 
mount the steed, while her cousin rode 
his own horse. The baggage was tak- 
en from the trunks and packed in bags, 
strapped behind the saddles. Every- 
thing made ready, fully equipped, the 
cousins commenced the journey. The 
road was only a bridle-path through a 
dense forest. Streams were to be 
forded, fallen trees to be leaped, and 
many other difficulties to be surmount- 
ed. Miles apart came clearings, where 
buildings of logs or slabs uprose amid 
fields dotted with burned stumps. Rest 
and refreshment were obtained at these 
houses. The pair were two daj-s and 
nights on the road, but arrived safely 
at their destination, somewhat fatigued, 
yet highly delighted with the trip. 
Miss Bailey remained at her uncle's a 
little over a year, then taking advan- 



tage of good sleighing, she came home 
with two of her cousins. After my re- 
turn from Xewburyport, she paid us a 
visit. We were greatly entertained 
with her lively and graphic description 
of the journeys to and fro, and her 
life in the forest. The account of the 
two days ride through the woods, eh' ci- 
ted peals of laughter, such queer di- 
lemmas and ludicrous accidents pre- 
sented themselves. Her young horse 
needed a firm hand; at the first run- 
ning stream he hesitated, after a mo- 
ment's consideration, gathered for a 
leap, and sprang across ; Hannah kept 
the saddle, and in this way was taken 
across every brook on the road. The 
elder horse witnessing his companion's 
agility, proceeded to copj r his example. 
After Miss Bailee' had become domes- 
ticated in Brownville, in company with 
her cousin, Charlotte Hill, she paid 
frequent visits to the farm houses in 
the vicinity, but the two horses could 
never be persuaded to wade a stream ; 
the}' invariably took them at a filing 
leap, not a bit to the discomfiture of 
the gay girls. 

Maj. Hill had put up a frame house, 
but the hearths and the lower half of 
the chimney were of stone, the upper 
being topped out with slabs filled in 
with clay. There was a stoue oven, 
though light could be discerned through 
a chink in the back, there was plenty 
of wood to heat it baked well. 

Bolts had not been set in the grist 
mill. The wheat flour for the nicest 
cooking was sifted through a fine hair 
seive, but the bread for common use 
was stirred up from the coarse flour, and 
no lighter, sweeter, or more wholesome 
bread was never tasted. As there 
were no apples, in the early summer, 
before the wild fruit came, pies were 

made from young sorrel leaves, which 
were considered very nice. 

Though the nearest neighbor was a 
quarter of a mile away, the winter 
passed cheerfully. The Indians were 
frequent guests, and were received 
with kindly hospitality. Their unique 
appearance, broken English, original 
ideas and untutored manners, were a 
never failing source of interest and 

The next spring, 1809, Maj. Hill 
built a brick chimnej: in his house, the 
brick hearths were the first in the 

The settlement was increased by the 
arrival of Dr. Wilkins. his wife and 
five children, from Billerica. The 
next } r ear the Rev. Samuel May and 
his family, moved thither from Boston. 
The clergyman came as a missionary 
for that part of the District, preaching 
in Brownville on alternate sabbaths. 
About the same time a lawyer, Col. 
Kinsman, with his sons John and Hen- 
ry came to the place from Waterville. 

During the winter Miss Bailey made 
herself generally useful ; in the spring, 
Maj. Hill fitted a room for a school, 
and installed his niece as instructress 
of the children scattered far and wide 
amid the woods. The gidd}- young 
girl proved an excellent teacher, elcit- 
ing the affection of her pupils and the 
respect of their parents. Money was 
scarce in this primitive settlement, the 
school-mistress had no regular salary, 
but she received several handsome 
presents, amongst which was a nice 
dress, and a muff and tippett of rich 

I recall how the afternoon's mirth 
was increased at tea. by the wry faces 
made by my j-ouugest brother, Joseph 
Little, over a dish of ale wives. Fro m 



its earliest settlement, fishing had been 

business in the town. Fishing 
grounds were laid out, which were pri- 
vate propert}'. I have the deed of one 
that descended to David Emery from 
his grandfather John Emery. 

Our neighbor, Hannah Pillsbury, had 
some years previous, married Mr. 
Abraham Brown, of Byfield. Left a 
widow while her children were still 
young. Mrs. Brown returned to the pa- 
ternal roof, bringing with her five sons, 
two of which were twins. The Brown 
boys and my brothers were intimate 

That afternoon Joe. and his crony. 
Oliver Brown, had been to the river to 
look at the fishing, and each had re- 
ceived a bunch of alewives. Highly 
delighted, Joe. dressed his for supper. 
Father told him that they were so bony 
he would not eat them, but to gratify her 
son, mother fried the fish. The lad 
sat down to the table with a keen ap- 
petite, but soon concluded that alewives 
were not exactly the thing for a hungry 
man to eat in a hurry. 

In 1808 Dr. Woods accepted an in- 
vitation to preside over the Theological 
Seminary at Andover. This institution 
had found munificient patrons in two 
citizens of Newburyport, Mr. Moses 
Brown, and William Bartlett Esq. Mr. 
Bartlett had been enthusiastically zeal- 
ous in its establishment, an interest 
which continued to the end of life. Dr. 
Woods' departure was deplored by his 
friends, their grief however was assuag- 
ed by the pride and pleasure experi- 
enced, at their favorite's advancement in 
place and honor. Aunt Ruth Little 
could scarcely reconcile herself to the 
change, but aunt Jud}' Dole said, "Let 
him go ; he was fitter for a Pope to that 
new Hopkinsian college, than for a coun- 

try parson. She was willing to throw" 
all her old shoes after him for good 
luck." Several years elapsed without 
a settled minister. The pulpit was 
mostly supplied from the Andover Sem- 
inar}*. Amongst these young men were 
the afterwards distinguished missiona- 
ries, Messrs Newell and Judson. A 
great commotion had arisen in the par- 
ish respecting the meeting-house. The 
old building had become dilapidated, 
almost unfit for use. Every one conce- 
ded the necessity of a new house, but 
its site was the bone of contention. 
Some, mostly the more elderly members 
of the society, were desirous to retain 
the old location, their plea being that 
it was exactly in the centre of the par- 
ish : the others very wiseby objected to 
climbing the almost inaccessible hill 
upon which the old structure was perch- 
ed, urging that it would be better for a 
few to go a slight distance farther on 
level ground, than all to climb the high 
and steep eminence. Agreement could 
not be reached. The old meeting-house 
grew worse and worse, snow drifted in 
at winter, and rain dripped through the 
cracks and crevices in summer, still the 
contrary parties could not be brought 
to agree, people went to meeting be- 
cause it was customary and considered 
sinful to remain at home, but there was 
a sad lack of interest and union in the 
parish for quite a period. 


My ancestors, with the exception of 
the Johnson branch, came to Newbury 
either in the band that accompanied 
Messers Parker and Noyes from Aga- 



warn to Quascacunquen in the year 
1635, or joined the settlement soon af- 
ter. From the Noj-es grandmother, 
am descended from the Rev. James 
No}-es, whose brother Nicholas, tradi- 
tion asserts, was the first to leap on 
shore when the emigrants landed. This 
spot is supposed to be on the north 
side of the river Parker, near the pres- 
ent bridge, and the colonists located 
about the lower green, Oldtown, where 
the first meeting-house was built. 
Thomas Parker, the pastor, was born 
in Wiltshire, England, in 1595 ; he 
was the only son of Robert Parker, an 
eminent scholar and an active non- 
conformist. The Noyes family are of 
Norman descent ; originally the name 
was spelt Noye. From the conquest 
the race have been distinguished for 
influence and scholarship. In 14 and 
15 Hen. VIII, William Noyes, of Ereh- 
fort, was assessed for the subsidy at 
80, and paid 4 3'early. In 1540 he 
became possessed of the prebend of 
^rchfort with its dependencies, and 
died in 1557, leaving a considerable 
property to a large' family, of whom 
John was M. P. for Laine, A. D., 1600, 
and Robert the elder, who succeeded to 
the prebend, having purchased in 1574 
for his eldest son, Robert, the manor 
and estate of King's Hatherdene, in 
Weghill near Andover. His cousin, 
Peter Noyes, was also of Weghill and 
Andover of Berks, in which county, 
for many generations his descendants 
owned the estate of Trunkwell, in the 
parish of Springfield, acquired b}- a 
marriage with Agnes, daughter and 
heiress of John Noyes of that place who 
died in 1607. Peter Noyes had a sec- 
ond son Richard, and a daughter, Joice, 
married to the Rev. Robert Wield, D. D. 
James Noyes, the teacher^ at Quasca- 

cunquen, was born in Choulderton, 
Wiltshire, England, in 1608. His 
father was a minister in the same town, 
a gentleman of superior ability and ed- 
ucation. His mother was a sister of 
the learned Robert Parker. Mr. Noyes 
was educated at Oxford, and for a time 
previous to his emigration to America, 
he was associated with his cousin, 
Thomas Parker, in teaching at New- 
bury, where Mr. Parker preached. In 
honor of these gentlemen, the settle- 
ment received the name of Newbury. 
In 1634, shortly before leaving his na- 
tive land. Mr. Noyes was married to 
Sarah, eldest daughter of Joseph Brown 
of Southampton. He had six sons, 
and three daughters ; Sarah, who died 
at the age of eleven, Rebecca, and a 
second Sarah. Through life the cous- 
ins, Parker and Noyes, continued in 
the closest intimacy. The}' taught in 
the same school in England, came to 
America in the same ship, were pastor 
and teacher in the same church, and as 
Mr. Parker remained a bachelor, they 
lived in the same house. For a few 
}-ears after the settlement of the town 
their residence was on the west side of 
the lower green, but on the removal of 
the meeting-house, Mr. Noj-es built a 
house in 1646, or soon after, which is 
still standing on Parker street, a fine 
old fashioned mansion, still owned and 
occupied by the clergyman's descend- 
ants. A lot of salt meadow, willed by 
Mr. Parker to his Noyes relatives, has 
never been bought nor sold, but through 
the descending generations has succes- 
sively passed from father to son. The 
Rev. James Noj'es died in the forty- 
eighth year of his age, Oct. 22d, 1656. 
His character is thus delineated by Mr. 
Parker : 

"Mr. James Noyes my worthy col- 



league in the ministry of the gospel, was 
a man of singular qualifications, in piety 
excelling, an implacable enemy to all 
heresy and schism and a most able war- 
rior against the same. He was of a 
reaching and ready apprehension, a 
large invention, a most profound judg- 
ment, a rare, tenacious and comprehen- 
sive memory, fixed and immovable in 
his well grounded conceptions, sure in 
words and speech, without rashness, 
gentle and mild in all expressions, with- 
out passion or provoking language, and 
as he Avas a notable disputant so he 
never would provoke his adversary, sav- 
ing by the short knocks and heavy- 
weight of argument. He was of so 
loving, compassionate and humble car- 
riage that I believe never any were ac- 
quainted with him, but did desire 
the continuance of his society and ac- 
quaintance. He was a most excellent 
counsellor in doubts, and could strike 
at a hair's breadth like the Benjamites 
and expedite the entangled out of the 
briars. He was courageous in dangers 
and still was apt to believe the best, 
and make fair weather in a storm. He 
was much honored and esteemed in the 
country, and his death was much be- 
wailed. I think that he may be reckoned 
among the greatest worthies of the 

Joseph, oldest son of the Rev. James 
Noyes, born Oct. 15th, 1637, remained 
in Xewbury, where, for a number of 
years, he was one of the selectmen. He 
died in 1717. 

James, the second son, born March 
llth, 1640; graduated at Harvard in 
1659 ; was a preacher in Stonington, 
Conn., in 1668; was ordained there 
Sept. 10th. 1G76, and died Dec. 1719, 
after a ministry of over fifty years. 

Moses, the third son, was born Dec. 

6th, 1643 ; graduated at Harvard in 
1659 ; he was the first minister in 
Lyme, Conn., where he died Nov. 
10th, 1726. 

John, the fourth son, born June 3d, 
1645 ; was a member of the Ancient 
and Honorable Artillery Company, Bos- 

Col. Thomas, the fifth son, born 
Aug. 10th, 1648 ; remained in New- 
bury where he was a prominent'citizen, 
representing the town in the General 

William, the sixth son, born Sept. 
22d, 1653, married Sara Cogswell, Nov. 
6th, 1685. Children : John, born July 
27th, 1686, William, born Sept. 1st, 
1688; Sarah, born May 10th, 1691, 
and died Dec. 3d, 1703 ; Moses, born 
Jan. 27th, 1694, and died Feb. 16th; 
Susanna, born Feb. 25th, 1696 ; Mary, 
born May 24th, 1699, and died Dec. 
16th, 1703 ; Sarah, born Dec. 5th, 
1703 ; Parker, born Jan. 17th, 1705. 

John, oldest son of William and 
Sara (Cogswell,) Noyes, married Tab- 
itha Dole, and moved to the West 
Precinct, Newbury, where he became 
a leading citizen and deacon of the 
church ; his estate was on the main 
road near the Bradford line. Children 
were : William, Sara, Elizabeth, and 
Parker, who died in childhood. Wil- 
liam married Lydia Morse ; their chil- 
dren were : Timothy, who married 
Betty Dean, Enoch, who married Sarah 
Emery, John, who married Elizabeth 
Pillislmry, and Molly, who married 
Webster Bailey. 

Sara, the oldest daughter of deacon 
Noyes, remained single ; Elizabeth, 
the second daughter, married Capt. 
James Smith of Crane-neck hill her 
second husband was Capt. Edmund 




Mr. Nicholas Xoyes, brother of 
Rev. James Xoyes, was born in 1614; 
he married Mary Cutting. :i sister of 
Capt. John Cutting who came from 
London to Charlestown, thence to Xew- 
buiy about 1642. Their children were, 
Mary, bora Oct. loth. 1641. married 
John French. Hannah, born Oct. 
31st, 1643, married Peter Cheney, 
May 14th. 1663. 2d, John Atkinson, 
born June 3d. 1700. died Jan. 5th. 
1705. John, born Jan. 20th, 1646, 
married Mary Poor. Xov 13th. 1668, 
died in 1691. Rev. Nicholas, born Dec. 
22d. 1647, died unmarried. Cutting, 
born Sept. 23d. 1649. married Eliza- 
beth Knight; died Oct. 25th, 1734. 
Sarah, born Sept. 13th. 1651. died 
Feb. 20th. 1652. Sarah, born Aug. 
22d. 1653. married Matthew Pettingel, 
April 13th. 1674. Timothy, bom 
June 23d. 1655. married Mary Knight. 
Jan. 13th, 1680 ; died in 1 710. James, 
born May 15th, 1657. married Hannah 
Knight. March 31st. 16x4 : died in 
1723. Abigail, born April. 1657. mar- 
ried Simeon French of Salisbury. May 
8th, 1707. Rachel, born March 20th. 
1661 , married James Jackman. Thom- 
as, bom June 20th. 1663. married Sa- 
rah , lived in Ilaverhill. and 

died previous to Dec. 30th, 1695. Re- 
becca, born May 18th, 1665. died Dec. 
21st, 1683. 

Mr. Xoyes was one of the most in- 
fluential members of the infant settle- 
ment, representing it in the General 
Court, and was also a deacon of the 
church. He died Xov. 23d. 1701. 
aged 83. 

Hannah, the wife of James Xoyes. 
was the daughter of John Knight, jun.. 
son of John Knight, who with his 
brother, Deacon Richard Knight, came 
from Romsey, England, to Newbury, 

in 1635. Their children were : Re- 
becca, born Jan. 12th. 1685; Joseph. 
born Sept. 20th. 1686: Hannah, born 
March 13th. 1688 ; Nicholas, born Feb. 
9th. 1690. Nathan, born Feb. 5th, 
1692 : Ephraim. born Xov. 20th and 
died Dec. 19th, 1694; Lydia, born 
Xov. 30th. 1695; Ephraim, born Dec. 
25th. 1698 ; Benjamin, bora Feb. 22d, 
1701; Mary, born March 13th. 1703: 
James, born Aug. 19th. 1705. 

Capt. Ephraim Xoyes. fifth son of 
James and Hannah (Knight) Xoyes. 
settled on the main road, in the West 
Precinct. Xewbury : he married Abi- 
gail, daughter of Jonas and Anne 
Platts. and granddaughter of Deacon 
Joseph Bailey, of Bradford. Edna. 
daughter of Capt Ephraim and Abigail 
(Platts) Xoyes. April 7th. 1756. mar 
riecl John, son of David and Abigail 
(Chase) Emery. 

The children of John and Mary 
(Poor) Xoyes were : Xicholas. born 
May 18th, 1671, married Sarah Lunt. 
and settled in Abington before 1718. 
Daniel, born Oct. 23d. 1673. married 
Judith Knight, Dec. 29th. 1702: died 
March 13th. 1716. Mary, born Dec. 
1 Oth. 1675. married John Xoyes. John, 
born Feb. 19th. 1677. married Ma- 
ry Thurlow. Jan. 25th. 1703: died 
previous to Xov. 2d. 1719. Martha, 
born Dec. 24th. 1679. married Jo.-eph 
Lunt. Dec. 29th. 1702: died June 
26th, 1706. Nathaniel, born Oct. 
28th.. 1681. married Priscilla Merrill; 
was inFalrnouth. 1733. Elizabeth, born 
Nov. llth. 1684. Moses, born May 
22d, 1688. died in 1714. Samuel. 
born Feb. 3d, 1692. married Hannah 
Poor; lived in Abington previous to 

The children of Daniel and Judith 
(Knight) Noyes were : Daniel, born 



Oct. 16th, 1703, married Abigail Top- 
pan; died April 16th, 1765. Joseph, 
born Aug. 6th, 1705, married Elizabeth 
Woodman. Xov. 10th, 1726 ; died 
Sept. loth, 1781. Joshua, born Jan. 
26th. 1707. married Sarah Hale. April 
7th. 1730; died Jan. 1808. John, 
born May 9th, 1709, married Ann 
Woodbridge ; died Aug. 13th, 1759. 
Mary, born Nov. 24th. 1710, died 
Aug. 1794. Deborah, born May 22d, 
1713. married Jacob Knight. Judith, 
born Jan. 7th, 1715, married Benjamin 

The children of Daniel and Abigail 
(Toppan) No}~es were: Abigail, born 
Dec. 28th, 1728, died Aug. 3d 1731. 
Daniel, born Nov. 7th, 1730, died 
June 13th, 1735. Zebulon, - 
died June llth, 1735. Samuel, born 
April 25th, 1737, married Rebecca 
Wheeler; died April 1st, 1820. Eb- 
enezer, born in 1739, married Hannah 
Chase; died Aug. 1767. 

Mary and John, twins, born March, 
1741. Maiy married, first, Samuel 
Somerby, second, Nathaniel Dole ; John 
married, first, Sarah Little ; second. 
Mary Pierce; died July 18th, 1778. 
Abigail, born Oct. 5th, 1744, married 
Joseph Moulton ; died Sept. 18th, 
1818. Judith, born Nov. 1747, died 
Oct. 1832. 

The children of Samuel and Rebecca 
(Wheeler) Noyes were : Daniel, born 
Oct. 22d, 1765, died Dec. 5th, 1768, 
Samuel, born May 25th, 1767, married, 
first, Jane Moody, Jan. 22d, 1795 ; she 
died Nov. 13th, 1802 ; second, Han- 
nah, youngest daughter of Joseph Lit- 
tle, and widow of James Stickney. who 
died Jan. 17th, 1805. Samuel Noyes 
died July 12th, 1852, and his widow. 
Hannah Noyes, died March 1st, 1861. 
Rebecca, born April, 1769. Ebenezer, 

born April 26th, 1771, died June 16th, 

1794, in the West Indies. Judith, 
born July 13th, 1773, died July 17th, 
1777. Daniel, born .May 6th. 1775, 
died Jan. 7th, 1777. Dr. Nathan, born 
April 3d, 1777, died Sept. 1842. Ju- 
dith, born Feb. 7th, 1779. married 
William Moulton ; died Oct. 1822. 

Rev. Nicholas Noyes, graduated at 
Harvard 1667, preached in Haddam, 
Conn., thirteen years, ordained over 
the first society in Salem, Nov. 14th, 
1683, and died Dec. 13th, 1717. 

Rev. Edmund Noj'es, born March 
29th, 1729, graduated at Harvard 1747, 
was ordained in Salisbury Nov. 20th, 
1751, and died July 12th, 1809. 

Ebeuezer Noyes, born in 1739, grad- 
uated at Nassau Hall in 1750, was a 
physician in Dover, where he died Aug. 
llth, 1767. 

Rev. Nathaniel Noyes, born Aug. 
12th, 1735, graduated at Nassau Hall 
in 1759, was ordained in South Hamp- 
ton, N. H., Feb. 23d, 1763, dismissed 
Dec. 8th, 1800, and died in Newbury- 
port Dec. 1810. Sarah, consort 
of the Rev. Nathaniel Noyes, died in 
South Hampton, May 20th, 1771, aged 
25 years, 8 months. 

Rev. Thomas Noyes, son of Col. 
Thomas No3 r es of the west parish, 
Newbur} 7 , graduated at Harvard in 

1795, and died young. 

Nathan Noyes, M. D., graduated at 
Dartmouth, a physician at Newbury- 

Rev. Jeremiah Noyes, graduated at 
Dartmouth in 1799, ordained Nov. 16, 
1803, in Gorham, Maine, and died 
Jan. 15th, LS07. 

Moody Noyes, Harvard, 1800, died 

Daniel Noyes, born Jan. 29th, 1739, 



graduated at Harvard in 1758. 
register of probate for Essex, and died 
in Ipswich March 21st, 1815. 

Joshua Xoyes, born 1739, graduated 
at Nassau in 1759 ; was pastor elect of 
the church in Kingston, X. H., and 
died July 8th, 1773, aged 34. 

John Xoyes, born May 9, 1709, 
graduated at Harvard in 175:5. and 
died Aug. 13th, 1759. 

Rev. George Rappall Xoyes, born 
March 6th, 1798. graduated at Har- 
vard in 1818 ; was ordained in South 
Brookfield, Mass., Oct. 30th, 1827; 
resettled in Petersham Oct. loth, 1834. 
Elected professor in the Divinity school, 
Cambridge, in 1840. Received the de- 
gree of D. D. the same year. He died 
June 3d, 1868, aged 70 years and 3 
months. Of Dr. Xo3 - es the late Thom- 
as B. Fox thus wrote : 

" His outward life was that of a stu- 
dent and teacher mainly, and so pre- 
sented out few incidents or events to 
break the even tenor of its way ; but 
by his Christian character, his learning 
and his intellectual usefulness to his 
pupils and to the cause of sacred liter- 
ature, he won the love, respect and 
gratitude of all who knew him, as well 
as the esteem of such as were only fa- 
miliar with him as an author who had 
helped them in their inquiries after 
truth. Dr. Xoyes graduated in the 
class of 1818 which gave fourteen of 
its members to the ministry. For sev- 
eral years he was pastor of the churches 
at South Brookfield and Petersham, 
but the greater portion of his days was 
spent in the service of his Alma Mater 
as tutor in the college and as a profes- 
sor on two foundations in the Divinity 
school. He first attracted public atten- 
tion by his translation of the book of 
Job a work that was followed In- 

versions of the Psalms and the Proph- 
ets. Besides these more elaborate pro- 
ductions, he was a contributor of learn- 
ed and critical articles to the Christian 
Examiner. He was one of the most 
diligent and accurate of scholars, and 
everything that came from his pen 
showed the conscientious fidelity, the 
pure, lucid, calm productions of a mind 
seeking always to be judicially impar- 
tial in its investigations and in the 
statement of its conclusions. His 
scholarship was large and thorough, 
and his industry unwearied and unre- 
mitted even through seasons of physi- 
cal weakness and distress. 

Up almost to the hour of his decease, 
he ^Yas engaged in correcting with 
sedulous care the closing proof sheets 
of a translation of the Xew Testa- 
ment. The strength and clearness of 
his mental powers, the candor and 
fearlessness of his moral nature, the 
generosit}' and justice of his liberality, 
will be acknowledged by all who had 
the privilege of listening to his explana- 
tory defence of the Cam-bridge Theolog- 
ical School, at the last meeting of the 
Alumni of that institution. His address 
on that occasion obtained a solemn im- 
pression from his bodily infirmity, which 
had not dimmed the healthful bright- 
ness of his mind, or chilled the warmth 
of his heart. He spoke as it were on 
the border of the grave, and he spoke 
as one who humbly but trustfully 
awaited a judgment more searching 
than any human judgment can be. We 
allude to this, his last public discourse, 
because in it were seen the trained 
thinker, the honest and catholic man, 
and the faithful Christian teacher ; the 
culmination as it were, of a life of 
many virtues and graces, consecrated 
to learning and to the highest interesst 



of humanity ; a life none the less use- 
ful, noble, and brave, because mostly 
passed in the study, the lecture room, 
and inthe retirement of comparative pri- 
vacy, away from the bustle of the world 
and unattended by circumstances that 
attract the public gaze. Such a life 
could not but win the reverent regard of 
all who witnessed and were benefited b}* 
it, and the memory of him who lived it, 
will be cherished as the memory of a 
disciple who uniformly sought to use 
the talents intrusted to him, as one 
who never forgot that he must give an 
account of his stewardship." 

The following is a tribute from Dr. 
W. W. Newell. ' 'The death of a work- 
er in the quiet paths of science is 
scarcely noticed by the world ; and yet 
few men of more active life ma}' have 
exercised so deep an influence ; so it 
was with the late George R. Noyes, 
D. D. For more than twenty years his 
was the leading mind in the Divinity 
school at Cambridge, and did more than 
an}- other to form the minds of the stu- 
dents, who will alwaj-s cherish his name 
with love. It was from him they ac- 
quired the scientific spirit, patient, 
calm, impartial ; in him the}- saw the 
example of a truly devotional mind, 
combined with the most searching anal- 
ysis ; they learned to respect his prac- 
tical wisdom, and to receive his opin- 
ions almost as oracles. Such homage 
from young, free, and independent 
minds implies great qualities. They 
were sure' no word would fall from his 
lips not thoroughly weighed and tested. 
They could trust a moderation which, 
always forbore to dogmatize, and to 
express even an opinion on doubtful 
questions, however fascinating the temp- 
tation to leap an unbridged chasm, and 
when he did express an opinion they 

knew it was no result of individual 
preference, or of dogmatic assumption 
but honest fruit of the widest compar- 
ison and the strictest inquiry. In his 
own department, the exegesis of the 
Scriptures, his' scholars believed him 
unapproached in America. Few could 
hear him and not admit that Biblical 
interpretation was now a science whose 
principles were fixed, and that the vast 
difference of results arise far more from 
the different opinions brought to the 
study, than from the difficulty of the 
subject. His translation of the poeti- 
cal books of the Old Testament is, we 
believe, the best in an}- language, com- 
bining a correct interpretation with the 
spirit of the original. His lectures il- 
lustrated to an even greater degree the 
high qualities of his mind, his great 
shrewdness, profound scholarship, and 
freedom from prejudice. But opinions, 
which he arrived at b^y individual 
study, and held when they were little 
supported and indeed almost unknown 
in this country, have since become 
widely prevalent among scholars every- 
where. With these virtues of the 
scholar he combined keen wit, and 
great kindness and tolerance. His stu- 
dents did not admire him more than 
they reverenced him ; and his whole 
life was in his work. No one could 
hear him in prayer and not revere his 
profoundly religious spirit, and wonder 
at such a union of qualities. No man 
lives who can fill the place he took in 
health ; and, if in life the general ig- 
norance and prejudice in regard to 
these subjects prevented general recog- 
nition of his merits, in the history of 
mind his name will stand among the 
first of American students who brought 
a scientific treatment to this branch of 
inquiry. In the minds of his students 



his memory will always live and his in- 
fluence always work." 

Francis V. Noyes, born Sept. 22cl, 
1809, graduated at Dartmouth, receiv- 
ed the degree of M. D. at Harvard 
Aug. 1831. He was a physician in 
Newburyport until 1844, and at present 
is a resident of Billerica. 

Rev. Daniel Parish Noyes, born 
June 4th, 1820, graduated Aug. 1840, 
at Yale College. Taught school till 
1843; was a tutor in Yale till 1847; 
student at Andover till 1849 ; pastor 
of the 3d Presbyterian church. Brook- 
lyn, X. Y., from April 1849, till Jan. 
1854. Secretary of the American 
Home Missionary Society from Jan. 
1854, till June, 1865. Secretary of 
Home Evangelization in Massachusetts 
from Jan. 1865, till 1873. While prose- 
cuting this work, he founded a church at 
Pigeon Cove, Cape Ann, acting as pas- 
tor for a time ; Oct. 1877 was install- 
ed pastor of a church in Wilmington. 

Joseph M. Xoyes, a distinguished 
teacher, and Henry Durant Xoyes of 
the firm of Xoyes, Snow and Co., pub- 
lishers, 13^ Bromfield street, Boston. 
These are grandsons of the Rev. Elijah 
Parish. Isaac Parsons Xoyes, born 
Dec. 10th, 1822 ; appointed assistant 
postmaster at Xewburyport, June 19th, 
1861 ; appointed postmaster May 2d, 
1877 ; served on the board of overseers 
of the poor three }*ears, in the common 
council one year, secretary of school 
board six years, re-elected on school 
committee in 1878 for two years. 
William Henry Xoyes, D. M. D., born 
in Xewbury, July 28, 1825 ; graduated 
at Harvard University in dental medi- 
cine, March 9th, 1870 ; married Mav 
14, 1848, Sarah M. Parshley of Straf- 
ford, X. H., Children: Ella Ada; 
Earnest Henry, born Xov. 20th, 1853 ; 

graduated at Bowdoin College July 
8th 1875, now studjing medicine at Har- 

George E. L. Xoyes, D. M. D., son 
of Greo. W. Xoyes, born in Xewbury- 
port Aug. 28th, 1850, graduated at 
Harvard University in dental medicine 
March 10, 1872 ; married Xov. 27, 
1878, Mary Hill Goodwin of Xewbury- 
port, daughter of Daniel A. Goodwin. 


' Whence cometh Smith, be he knight or be he 

But from the Smith that forgeth at the fire." 

The arms of Smith, granted in some 
remote age to some meritorious Mack- 
smith, are : 





From the settlement on Crane-neck 
hill four generations bearing the name 
of James Smith have succeeded each 
other on the homestead, and two pre- 
ceded them at Old town, making six in 
America. The first of this patroi^-mic 
of whom I have record were Sir James 

The Noyes arms are 




Smith, the first baronet of Isfield, who 
was the eldest son of Sir James Smith 
Knt., Lord Mayor of London in 1685, 
who was the second son of Sir Robert 
Smith, of Upton, Bart., who descend- 
ed from Robert Smith, citizen and dra- 
per of London and Stoke Prior in Wor- 
cestershire. This Robert belonged to 
an ancient family, the Smiths of Cuerd- 
le}', in Lancaster. Robert Smith and 
his descendants Sir Robert, Sir James 
the Knt., and Sir James the Baronet, 
bore arms : 





This coat was confirmed by Flower 
Norroy on the 7th of July, 1579, to 
Thomas Smith, son and heir of Sir 
Laurence Smith of Hough. Motto : 
Duriora virtus Virtue tries harder 

The same arms were borne by Fer- 
dinando Dudle}' Lea Smith, esq., great 
grandson of William Smith of Stoke 
Prior, County Worcester by the Hon. 
Anne Lea, his wife, eldest sister and 
co-heiress of Ferdinando Dudley, Lord 
Dudley of Halesraven Grange. 

Edmund is another patronymic that 
has descended through the generations. 
It was derived from the marriage of 
Margaret, daughter of Thomas Smith 
of Cockermouth, with Edmund Wil- 
niot of Hampshire. Arms : 


Thomas Smith came from Romsey. 
England, with his wife Rebecca, in the 
ship James, to Ipswich, Mass., in 1635, 
thence to Newbury in 1638, and set- 
tled on the farm now owned by David 
Smith. He died April 22, 1666. His 

children were : Thomas, born in 1639, 
who was drowned by falling into a clny- 
pit on his way to school, Dec. 6th, 
1648 ; Rebecca, born Feb.' 20th, 1641, 
married Aug. 4th, 1663, Stephen 
Swett ; Lieut. James Smith, born 
Sept. 10th, 1645, married July 26th, 
1667, Sarah Coker. He was drowned 
at Anticosti in the disastrous expe- 
dition to Quebec, in October, 1690. 
John, born March 9th, 1648, mar- 
ried Rebecca Poor Nov. 26th, 1667; 
Matthias, born Oct. 27th, 1652 ; Thom- 
as, born July 7th, 1654, was killed by 
the Indians at Bloody Brook in 1696. 
This was in King Philip's war. As 
Philip was on the Connecticut river it 
became necessary for the English to 
establish an opposing force in some 
convenient position. As Hadley was 
selected, an increased supply of pro- 
visions in that place was needed. A 
considerable quantity of . wheat being 
preserved in stacks at Deerfield, it was 
deemed expedient to have it thresh- 
ed and brought to Hadley. Captain 
Lathrop and his company volunteered 
to proceed to Deerfield and protect the 
convoy. This company consisted of 
the flower of the population of Essex 
her hopeful } T oung men all called 
out of the towns belonging to that 
county. Of the twenty- three men im- 
pressed from Newbmy, on the 5th, 6th 
and 27th of August, to go against the 
Indian enemy, were Hemy Bodwell, who 
married Bethia, daughter of John and 
Maiy (Webster) Emerj T , JohnToppan, 
Thomas Smith, Samuel Hills and Jon- 
athan Emeiy. The}' arrived safely at 
Deerfield, threshed the wheat,' placed 
it in eighteen carts, and while on their 
return through South Deerfield, as they 
were stopping to gather grapes, which 
hung in clusters in the forest that lined 



the narrow road, they were surprised 
by an ambascade of Indians, outnum- 
bering Capt. Lathrop's company ten to 
one, who poured upon them a murder- 
ous fire ; not more than seven or eight 
of the eighty men in the company es- 
caped. Sergeant Thomas Smith, Sam- 
uel Stevens, his brother John Stevens, 
and John Littlehale were killed ; John 
Toppan, who was wounded in the 
shoulder, concealed himself in a -water- 
course then almost dry, and drew grass 
and weeds over his head, so that, 
though the Indians sometimes stepped 
directly over him, he was not discover- 
ed. Hemy Boclwell had his left arm 
broken b} r a musket ball, but being a 
man of great strength and courage, he 
siezed his gun in his right hand and 
swung it round his head, and so forced 
his way through the Indians by whom 
he was surrounded. John Toppan 
brought home the sword of Sergeant 
Thomas Smith, and it is preserved in 
the family at the old homestead as a 
most precious relic. At the recent sec- 
ond centennial celebration of the battle 
Bloody Brook, it was again borne to the 
field by- Edmund Smith, of Newbury- 
port, where it was the sole memento of 
that cruel fray. The rapier excited 
universal attention, being regarded 
with awe and reverence. Mothers led 
up their little children to touch the 
sword of one, whose arm that wielded 
it, had been mouldering in the dust just 
two hundred years that day. 

"An inventory of the lands, goods 
and chattels of Thomas Smith, late of 
Newbury, who was slayne when Capt. 
Lathrop was slayne, taken by Robert 
Long and Anthony Somerby, March 
22d, 1675 : 76 

Imprimis foure acres of plowland 3 acres of 

pasture 4 acres salt marsh & 3 acres of 
swamp or slow land 55-0-0 

A yoke of oxen & a 4 yearf old heifer 16-10-0 

His wearing apparrell 5-0-0 

A chest a cross cut saw a broad axe 
2 augurs A maul 2 addes a rule & a 
raypier 2-8-0 

A gnapsack & a bible & 2 paper 
bookes 0-3-6 

and debts due to him about 1-0-0 

Sum is 80-6-6 

the deceased was out in the country 
service about 7 weeks he was at first 
corporall and after seigent under the 
said Capt. Lathrop & had all his arms 
& amunition well fixt which is all lost 
except the rapier 

the debs that the deceased owes is 
about 10-0-0 

Anthony Somerby Robert. Long. 

This inventoryjired in court held at Ips- 
wich the 28th of March 1676. As attest 
Robert Lord cler." 

The children of Lieut. James and 
Sarah (Coker) Smith were Sarah, born 
Sept. 12th, 1668, married in 1692, 
Richard Kelle}' ; James, born Oct. 16th, 
1670, married, in 1695, Jane Kent; 
Thomas, born March 9th, 1673, mar- 
ried March 29th, 1715, Martha Noj'es ; 
Hannah, born March 23d, 1675, mar- 
ried in 1695, Joseph Pike. These were 
the progenitors of Albert Pike the poet. 
Joseph, born June 8th, 1677. died Ju- 
ly 19th, 1677 ; John, born Nov. 1st, 
1678, married Dec. 9th, 1709. Ann 
Nelson; Benjamin, born Aug. 21st, 
1681, married April 19th, 1709, Han- 
nahSomes ; Mary, born Feb. 27th, 
1684, died Dec. 15th, 1685. 

The children of James and Jane 
(Kent) Smith were : Capt. James, 
born Nov. 25th, 1696, married Dec. 
9th, 1719, Elizabeth Moody; Sarah, 
born June 21st, 1699, married 1728, 
William Moulton ; Mary, born Ma} r 
23d, 1701, married Feb. 28th, 1724, 
Moses Noyes ; Richard, born March 



81st, 1706, died 3'oung ; John, born 
June 3d, 1709, married March 3d, 
1730, Martha Toppan, and died Sept. 
25th, 1734; Moses, born May 16th, 
1711. married, Nov. 24th, 1742, Lydia 
Toppan : James, the husband of Jane 
Kent, married a second wife, Sarah 
Ordway, in 1723. Martha Smith, 
widow of John Smith, married Cutting 
Moody. She left two children John 
Smith, born Nov. 3, 1731, and Abi- 
gail Smith, born Nov. 29th, 1732 ; she 
married Jonathan Bradbury in 1758. 
Martha and Lydia Toppan, the wives 
of John and Moses Smith, were sisters 
of Rev. Benjamin Toppan, minister at 
Manchester, Mass., forty-seven years. 
They were children of Samuel Toppan, 
who married Abigail, daughter of the 
Rev. Michael Wigglesworth, author of 
the Day of Doom. Rev. David Top- 
pan was a son of Benjamin. 

Soon after his marriage with Eliza- 
beth Moody, Capt. James Smith, hav- 
ing inherited from his grandfather, John 
Kent of Kent's island, a hundred acre 
lot on Crane-neck hill, moved thither. 
That part of Newbury then termed the 
" West Precinct," or " Newtown,'' 
was a wilderness, with Indians for 
neighbors. A garrison had been estab- 
lished on the place afterwards owned 
by Dea. Samuel Tenney. Capt. Smith 
put up a small house the back part 
of the present dwelling ; the front was 
built a few years later. At its erec- 
tion the house was lighted by case- 
ments hung on hinges, with diamond- 
shaped panes set in leaden sashes. 
These windows were modernized by 
his son James, who remodelled the 
house and built the long barn. 

Capt. James and Elizabeth Smith 
had ten children : Sarah, Samuel. Wil- 
liam, James, Richard, Mollie, Jenny, 

Betty, Stephen and Moses. These 
ten sons and daughters all grew to 
man's and woman's estate, comprising 
a fine family, the young ladies being 
specially noted for beauty and grace. 
Sarah married Mood}' Follansbee" and 
settled on a farm near Meeting-house 
hill. Samuel married Judith, and Wil- 
liam, Mary, sisters of Mr. David Em- 
ery at the main road. Capt. Smith 
gave to each of these two sons a thirty 
acre lot, upon which they erected 
houses on Crane-neck road one above 
and the other below where the pres- 
ent school-house is located. Isaac in- 
herited the homestead and married 
Elizabeth, daughter of Dea. John 
Noyes. Richard married Abigail, a 
sister of Mood} 7 P'ollansbee, and estab- 
lished himself in the shoe business in 
Newburyport, where he built a house 
on Short, now Independent street. 
Mollie became the wife of Capt. Wil- 
liam Noyes of Newbuiyport. Fanny 
died of consumption in early life, un- 
married. Bett3"'s first husband was 
John Emery, son of David ; after his 
decease she married Col. Spofford of 
New Rowley, now Georgetown. Ste- 
phen and Moses moved to Lancaster, 
where they married. Stephen was a 
merchant, and Moses cultivated a 
large farm. 

Capt. James Smith, 2cl, and Eliza- 
beth (Noyes) Smith had seven chil- 
dren : Parker, Lizzie, John, Samuel, 
Sarah, James, Enoch. 

Parker married Hannah Savory and 
settled on a farm in Newbuiy, near the 
Bradford line. Lizzie became the wife 
of Deacon Samuel Teuney ; John mar- 
ried Mary March, and purchased the 
Jonas Platts farm in Bradford, now 
Groveland. Samuel married Sarah 
Bailey ; he became the Methodist 



preacher ; Sarah remained unmarried. 
James (my father) married Prudence, 
eldest daughter of Mr. Joseph Little, 
and succeeded the line of James Smiths 
on the home farm. Enoch married 
Hannah Woodman, and purchased the 
farm of Maj. Hills on Crane-neck road, 
adjoining that of my grandfather Little. 
The Smiths of Newbury. West New- 
bury, and Newburyport, though noted 
for intelligence, ability, thrift and en- 
terprise, have not been a scholastic 

Rev. David Smith graduated at Har- 
vard in 1790. I recollect hearing him 
preach some time during the interreg- 
num between the departure of Parson 
Toppan and the ordination of Dr. 
Woods. He was a fine looking man, 
and an eloquent divine . His record I 
have been unable to trace. 

Daniel Smith, for forty years an 
apothecaiy in Newburyport, died Mar. 
28, 1878, aged 90 years. Dr. Smith's 
drug store (now S. A Smith's) , was on 
Market square. He was one of the 
most upright and genial of men, pos- 
sessing great intelligence and force of 
character. The latter part of his life 
was passed in Lawrence, where he 
died. His son, Daniel Talcot Smith, 
born Sept. 17th, 1813. graduated at 
Amherst in 1831, was assistant instruc- 
tor at Andover in 1834-6, ordained in 
Sherburne, Mass., Dec. 5th, 1836. 
Has been for many years professor in 
the Bangor Theological Seminary. 

Thomas Smith, the first in America, 
bore the ai'ms of Edward Smith of 
Hampshire : 




The ancient arms of Smith of Cuerdley 
were : 


Of the English ancestor to whom 
the arms of Smith were first issued I 
have no account. 

William Smith, Bishop of Lincoln, a 
descendant of the Smiths of Cuerdley 
County, Lancaster, was born at Peel 
House in the township of Widness and 
chapelry of Farnsworth, in the parish 
of Prescot County. Lancaster, about 
the year 1460. In 1492 he was made 
Bishop of Litchfield and Coventry, and 
on the 18th of May. 1495. he was trans- 
lated to the see of Lincoln. About 
the year 1509, in conjunction with Sir 
Richard Sutton of Sutton near Mac- 
clesfield, he founded a college in the 
University of Oxford, "commonly 
called the King's Haule and Colledge of 
Brazen Nose." He also held the im- 
portant office of Lord President of the 
Marches of Wales from the 17th of 
Henry VII to the 4th of Henry VIII. 
He made his will on the 26th of Dec. 

1512, appointing William Smith, Arch- 
deacon of Lincoln, Gilbert Smith, 
Archdeacon of Northampton, Thomas 
Smith of Chester, merchant, and oth- 
ers, his executors. He died at his pal- 
ace at Buckden on the 2d of January. 

1513, and was buried in the nave of 



Lincoln Cathedral, near the great west- 
ern door. Among his other benefac- 
tions were a chapel in Farnsworth 
Church, and a grammar school at the 
same place. The arms of the Bishop 
are : 


He sealed with a W (the initial of his 
Christian name) between three roses. 
On the brass to his memory in Lincoln 
Cathedral, were four escutcheons, one 
bearing his arms, two containing those 
of his two sees Litchfield and Lin- 
coln, and a fourth blazoned with a sol- 
taire between four fleur-de-lis. 

Of the Cuerdley famil}- were Thomas 
Smith, twice Mayor of the city of Ox- 
ford, and Thomas Smith, of Chester, a 
near relative and one of the executors 
of Bishop Smith. This Cuerdley family 
well observed the injunction, "to in- 
crease and multiply." Sir Thomas 
Smith of Hatherton, a descendant of 
Thomas of Chester, had twenty-two 
children. Robert Smith, esq., some- 
time citizen and draper of London, who 
died 23d of March, 1609-10, had elev- 
en sons and six daughters, all of whom 
are represented upon his monumental 
brass in Stoke Prior Church, Worces- 
tershire. His sou Robert was the first 
baronet of Upton. Robert's second 
son, Sir James Smith, Knt., Avas Lord 
Mayor of London in 1685, and his 
eldest son Sir James Smith was the 
first baronet of Isfield. 

John Smith of St. Giles's, Cripple- 
gate, entered his pedigree in 1663 as 
the tenth son of John Smith, of "Stoke 
Priory," and he married two wives and 
was the father of ten children. Of the 
same family was William Smith, of 
Cahir Moyle, Ireland, who had issue, 

two daughters and co-heiresses Char- 
lotte, married to Sir Edward O. Brien, 
Bart, and Harriet, wife of Thomas Ar- 
thur, Esq. of Glenomera. The arms 
of John Smith : 



The exact pedigree of this worthy 
cannot be traced. It is generally ad- 
mitted that he was descended from the 
Smiths of Cuerdley, and he is stated to 
have been born at Willoughby in Lin- 
colnshire in 1579, and to have been 
descended by his mother from the Rie- 
cards of Great Heck in the West Rid- 
ing of Yorkshire. He was in the ser- 
vice of Sigismund, brother to Duke of 
Transylvania, from whom he received 
in 1623 "three Turks' heads in a shield 
for his arms by patent under his hand 
and seal, with an oath ever to wear 
them in his colors, his picture in gold, 
and three hundred ducats yearly for a 
pension." This coat was granted in 
memory of three Turks, w.hom with 
his own sword he overcame, and cut 
off their heads, in the province of 



Captain Smith after various advent- 
ures in the old and new worlds, his life 
being saved by Pocahontas, etc., died 
in London on the 21st of June, 1631, 
and was buried in St. Sepulchre's, in 
the choir, where is, or was, a long in- 
scription to his memory in '"fine tink- 
ling rhyme and flowing verse," setting 
forth his great prowess and many vir- 
tues : 

"How that he did divide from Pagans three 
Their heads and lives, types of his chivalrie; 
For which great, service in that climated one, 
Brave SigUnuindus, King of Hungarion, 
Did give him a coat of arms to \veare, 
Those conquered heads got by his sword and 
speare," etc. 

Sir Thomas Smith of Theydon 
Mount, Essex Bounty, was secretary to 
King Edward the Sixth and Queen 
Elisabeth. ' His family claim descent 
from Sir Roger de Clarendon, Knt., a 
natural son of Edward the Black 

Sir Thomas Smith of Hill Hall, Es- 
sex, was created a baronet in 1661, 
his arms were : 


Some have supposed this crest indica- 
tive of the escape of Sir. Thomas from 
being burned in Queen Mary's reign, 
but the fiery crest is rather allusive to 
the "Smith that forgeth at the fire" of 
honest Verstegan. 

Thomas, second son of John Smith 
of Corsham County, Wilts., settled in 
London and became farmer of the Cus- 
toms to Queens Mary and Elizabeth. 
He purchased the estate of Ostenhan- 
ger (now called Westenhanger) and 
other property, in Kent, and died in 

1591, aged 69. By Alice, his wife, 
daughter and heiress of Sir Andrew 
Judde, Lord Mayor of London in 1550 
(son of John Judde of Yurnbridge, by 
Margaret, daughter and co-heiress of 
Valentine Chiche, which Valentine mar- 
ried Philippa, daughter and co-heiress 
of Sir Robert Chichele, Lord Mayor of 
London 1411 and 1421, by Agnes, his 
wife, daughter and heiress of William 
Apuldrefield, brother of Archbishop 
Chichele, founder of All Souls) , he had 
seven sons. It is said that Smith 
farmed the Customs, at first, for 12,000 
a year, and that the}- were then raised, 
time after time, until he paid 55,000 
a year, and, 60,000 being afterward 
demanded, he relinquished the contract. 
He gave his eldest son Thomas (who 
was made a Knight of the Bath by King 
James) 8,000 a year, and upon each 
of his other sons he bestowed not less 
in estates than 6,000 a year. He had 
six sons, who were sheriffs of six dif- 
ferent counties. 

The surname of Smith is of great 
antiquity in Scotland, and of old was 
variously written Snryt, Smyth and 
Smith, and sometimes the}' have been 
called Gow, which is Gaelic for Smith. 
The traditional accounts of their origin 
is, that they are decended from the 
Clan Chattan : that Niel Croomb. third 
son of Murdoch of that clan, who lived 
in the reign of William the Lion, was 
their progenitor. The sejant cat is the 
device of the Clan Chattan, the motto 
"Xa beau d'on chat gan lamhaiuu." 
Touch not the cat without a 
glove. ''The Clan Chattan. who gave 
the name to the county of Caithness, 
bore as their chief cognizance the 
wild mountain cat, and called their 
chieftain the Earl of Sutherland, Mohr 
an Chat, the great wild cat." 




On the maternal side my first ances- 
tor in America was George Little, who 
came to Newbury, from Unicorn street 
near London bridge, in 1640. Though 
a young man, it appears as though he 
brought a considerable sum of money, 
as he made an extensive purchase of 
land, which now comprises some of 
the finest farms in Old town, most of 
this estate being still retained by his 
descendants. He was a man of honest}' 
and abilit}-, often appointed to fill 
places of trust and honor. He mar- 
ried Alice Poore, who sailed for New 
England from Southampton in May 
1638, together with her younger broth- 
ers, Samuel and Daniel, in the party of 
Mr. Richard Duinmer. She died in 
1680, aged 62. His second wife was 
Eleanor Barnard, widow of Thomas 
Barnard of Amesbury. 

George and Alice Little had five chil- 
dren Sarah who died in infanc} 7 , Jo- 
seph, John, Moses, and a second Sarah. 
Capt. Joseph Little married Mary, 
daughter of Tristram Coffin, Esq. 
Their children were Judith, Joseph, 
(who died at the age of thirteen), 
George, Sarah, Enoch, Tristram, Mo- 
ses, Daniel, and Benjamin. 

Ensign Enoch Little married Eliza- 
beth, daughter of John Worth. En- 
sign Little took his bride to a farm re- 
cently granted on Crane-neck hill ; 
this comprised the lower end of the 
hill ; Capt. James Smith's was above ; 
Mr. Ezra Pillsbury's place lay on the 
northern, and that of Dr. Adams on 
the southern slopes. The bridegroom 
mounted his horse, with his young wife 
on the pillion, and with their effects 
packed in saddle-bags, they rode over 
the bridle-path through the woods to 

their new home. No shelter had been 
provided. It was pleasant summer 
weather, and the } T oung couple on the 
first day dined upon a large, flat rock, 
which is still preserved as a memorial ; 
at night they sought the protection of 
the garrison house. A small house 
and suitable out-buildings were built, 
trees were felled, and fruitful fields 
soon replaced the ancient forest. This 
pair had seven children : Joseph, Eliz- 
abeth, John, Edmund, Enoch, Daniel, 
and Benjamin. Five of these' Jo- 
seph. John, Enoch, Daniel and Benja- 
min, died of the throat distemper, which 
at one time committed such fearful 
ravages throughout the colom r . The 
only daughter, Elizabeth, married 
Abel Huse. Capt. Edmund.Little mar- 
ried Judith, daughter of Dr. Matthew 
Adams of Crane-neck hill ; their chil- 
dren were Elizabeth, Judith, Joseph, 
John, Sarah and Mary, (twins), 
Enoch, Eunice, Prudence and Hannah. 
Elizabeth married Abram Day, and 
moved to Bradford. Judith married 
twice first Abram Adams, at the 
' ' Farms ;" second, Capt. Joseph 
Noyes of Newburyport. Joseph (my 
grandfather) married Betty Merrill. 
AVithin one year from her nuptials Mrs. 
Little died of consumption ; his second 
wife was Mary, third daughter of the 
Rev. William Johnson. John married 
Ruth, daughter of Ezekiel Hale ; and 
Enoch,- Man*, half-sister of Ruth : Sa- 
rah married Samuel Thurrell, or Thur- 
low. Mr. Thurrell resided some time 
at the '" Farms." In the year 1788 he 
purchased the Dr. Adams place and 
moved to Crane-neck hill. Mary be- 
came the wife of John Merrill ; their 
only child, Lydia, married Dr. Daniel 
Noyes Poore ; these were the great- 
grandparents of the present Indian 



Hill family. Eunice married Robert 
Adams at the " Farms." Prudence 
died when a child. Hannah married 
Samuel Dole : this pair resided some 
years in Oldtown ; afterwards Mr. 
Dole purchased the March Farm in 
Newtown, and moved thither. 

Capt. Edmund Little apportioned to 
his son Joseph about seventy acres. 
He erected a house and barn at the 
foot of Crane-neck hill, just beyond 
the brook. This was then a consider- 
able stream, with sufficient power to 
turn the wheel of a grist mill which 
accommodated the neighborhood. Capt. 
Little had erected the present large 
and commodious mansion, now owned 
by his great-great-grandson, Edmund 
Little, and here he resided, his son 
Enoch occupying half of the house. A 
smaller one was built for John, farther 
up the hill. The homestead was divid- 
ed equally between these two, who cul- 
tivated the place, annually paying their 
father one-third of the income. 

To avoid confusion I have spoken of 
my father's mother as' Grandmother 
Smith, and have not mentioned her 
leaving the Smith homestead. In the 
year 1787 Capt. James Smith died. 
At that time Capt. Edmund Little was a 
widower. Two years later widow James 
Smith married her neighbor Capt. Ed- 
mund Little . Her son Enoch and daugh- 
ter Sarah still occupied her part of the 
house, and cultivated the land. Prior 
to her marriage, settlements were drawn 
up by which, if Mrs. Little survived 
her husband, in lieu of the widow's 
dower, she was to receive a certain 
sum of money, and return to the home 
of her first marriage. This aged cou- 
ple lived a most pleasant and contented 
life for fourteen years ; then great- 
grandsir died quite suddenly, and ''lit- j 

tie grandmother," as I used to style 
her, returned to her former home. 
Uncle Enoch Smith bought the Major 
Hill farm and moved thither, while 
grandmother sank into her former rou- 
tine, with her daughter Sarah for 
housekeeper, Uncle Enoch tilling the 
land as before. This marriage brought 
some queer relationships into our fami- 
ly. Prior to his mother's second union 
her son James had married Prudence, 
granddaughter of Capt. Edmund Little. 
Thus nrv father became son-in-law to 
his wife's grandfather. The stone 
erected at the grave of my father's 
mother bears this inscription : 





The first ancestor in America of 
Elizabeth "Worth, the wife of Ensign 


Enoch Little, was Lionel Worth, who 
married Susanna "Whipple. Her father 
John Worth, married Elizabeth, daugh- 
ter of Israel Webster, the second son 
of John and Mary (Shatswell) Webster 
of Ipswich. Mrs. Webster's second 
husband was John Emery of Newbury, 
who emigrated to this countiy from 
Romsey, England. 

The arms of Worth are ; 




The Rev. Daniel Little was born 
July 18th, 1724. He married in 1751, 
Mary, daughter of Rev. Joseph P^mer- 
son, who died June 2d, 1758, aged 32, 
and Sarah Coffin, June 6th, 1759. 
Though Mr. Little did not pursue a 
collegiate course, he spent several years 
in teaching, and the degree of A. M. 
was conferred by Harvard College in 
1766. He studied theology with Rev. 
Joseph Moody of York, District of 
Maine, and in March, 1751, was or- 
dained pastor of the second parish in 
Wells, in that district. Mr. Little was 
one of the most distinguished and in- 
fluential clergyman in that region, en- 
joying a most successful pastorate of 
over fifty years. In 1772 he was ap- 
pointed for missionary service in the 
eastern portion of the district of Maine. 
This work led during the succeeding 
years to be a series of arduous tours 
and he became styled the Apostle of 
the East. He established a school for 
the Indians on the Penobscot, and 
prepared a full vocabulary of their lan- 
guage. Mr. Little was much interested 
in the education of youth, and when 
far advanced in years, was selected as 
one of the trustees of Bowdoin College 
at its establishment. He died suddenly 
of paralysis, on the 5th of December, 
1801, leaving several children and 
grandchildren ; one of the latter be- 
came the leading partner in the firm 
Little, Brown & Co., Boston. 

Col. Moses Little, born in Newbury 
May 8th, 1724, married, June 5th, 1743. 
Abigail, daughter of Joshua Bailey, 
twin sister of Judith, who married his 
brother Stephen, also sister of Gen. 
Jacob Bailey, a distinguished officer in 
the French and Revolutionary wars. 
She died Feb. 6th, aged 91. 

During Col. Little's early manhood 

there was much activity in settling- 
townships ; large tracts of land had 
been granted to the officers and soldiers 
of the French and Indian war ; many 
wealthy people were also securing 
grants. Col. Little obtained the ap- 
pointment of surveyor of the King's 
lands. In 1750 he was one of a com- 
pany who acquired from Gov. Benning 
Wentworth a large grant of the unoc- 
cupied crown lands lying within the 
present limits of Vermont. A few 
years after he purchased a large tract 
of land in the township of Apthorp, 
N. H., which was divided into two 
towns, one being named in his honor, 
Littleton, and the other^ Dalton, from 
his townsman, Hon. Tristram Dalton. 
His possessions in this region were in- 
creased by subsequent purchases, with 
Maj. Samuel Gerrish and Col. Jona- 
than Bailey. He acted as agent for 
the proprietors of Bakerstown, and 
succeeded in obtaining for them from 
the General Court of Massachusetts a 
township of land in Maine in lieu of 
the one granted in 1736, which was 
subsequently decided to be within the 
borders of New Hampshire. By pur- 
chasing from time to time the rights of 
the original proprietors he became the 
owner of the greater part of the grant, 
which comprised a large part of what 
is now Androscoggin count}-. In 1768 
the Pejepscot Company granted to him 
and Col. Bailey a still larger tract in 
the same county, on the eastern side of 
the Androscoggin, on condition that 
they would settle fifty families there 
before June 1st, 1774, and build cer- 
tain roads. These conditions being- 
only partially fulfilled the amount of 
land deeded was diminished. Though 
over fifty years of age, the war of the 
Revolution found in Col. Little one of 



the most active and patriotic of his 
country's defenders. Being senior 
captain, at the news of the British ex- 
pedition to Concord, which found him 
ploughing, he unyoked his oxen, and 
rall3"ing his conipan}', marched to the 
American head-quarters at Cambridge. 
At the battle of Bunker Hill he com- 
manded a regiment. Forming his 
men in Indian file he led them across 
Charlestown Neck under a terrible 
fire from the British batteries and 
ships of war, arriving at the scene of 
conflict just prior to the third and final 
charge of the enemy. Though unhurt. 
Col. Little had several narrow escapes ; 
comrades falling on either side bespat- 
tered his black velvet clothes with 
blood. In August he returned home 
to attend the funeral of two of his 
children, and rejoined his command af- 
ter an absence of only two days. After 
the evacuation of Boston he accompan- 
ied the army to New York, Ms regi- 
ment forming a part of Gen.' Greene's 
brigade. . 

On the 4th of April Washington left 
Cambridge for New York. Expecting 
him at Providence, Gen. Greene, who 
had been detained there, ordered two 
regiments, Hitchcock's Rhode Island 
and Little's Massachusetts, to appear 
in their best form, and escort the Gen- 
eral into the city. The minuteness of 
Greene's directions on the occasion de- 
picts the personal appearance of the 
early Continental soldier. The follow- 
ing has been preserved amongst Col. 
Little's papers : 

" Providence, April 4th, 1776. 

Col. Hitchcock's and Col. Little's reg- 
iments are to turn out to-morrow 
morning to escort his Excellency into 
town, to parade at 8 o'clock, both offi- 
cers and men dressed in uniform ; and 
none to turn out except those dressed 

in uniform ; and those of the non-com- 
missioned officers and soldiers that 
turn out to be washed, both face and 
hands, clean, their beards shaved, 
their hair combed and powdered, and 
their arms cleaned. The General hopes 
that both officers and soldiers- will exert 
themselves for the honor of the regi- 
ment and brigade to which they belong. 
He wishes to pay the honors to the 
Commander-in-Chief in as decent and 
respectable a manner as possible." 

Upon Washington's arrival at New 
York he arranged the army into five 
brigades, under Heath, Spencer, Sul- 
livan, Green, and Stirling. It becom- 
ing necessary to despatch Gen. Sulli- 
van with six regiments to the north- 
ward, on the 29th of April the troops 
were anew formed into four brigades, 
Green's third brigade being assigned 
to Long Island. Owing to bad weath- 
er it did not cross until the third of 
May. These troops consisted of Col. 
Edward Hand's Pennsylvania Riflemen, 
two Rhode Island regiments under 
Cols. James Mitchell Varnum and 
Daniel Hitchcock, and Col. Moses Lit- 
tle's regiment from Massachusetts. 
These ranked as the first, ninth, elev- 
enth and twelfth of the Continental 
Establishment, and were as well armed 
and under as good discipline as any in 
the army. Hand's regiment numbered 
four hundred and seventy officers and 
men, the others having an average of 
about three hundred and fifty each. 
These troops occupied the water front 
to keep the enemy's ships out of the 
river, and to secure themselves from an 
attack by laud. To hold the Brooklyn 
peninsula a chain of works 'was thrown 
up across the neck. Three forts and 
two redoubts, with connecting breast- 
works, were thrown out. These forts 
were named Green, Box, and Putnam. 
The command of Fort Green was as- 



signed to Col. Little, who describes it 
as the largest of the works on Long 
Island, and he resolved it never should 
be surrendered while he was alive. 

Washington's arm}- at the opening of 
the campaign of August 27th consisted 
of twenty-eight thousand five hundred 
officers and men. Of these Massachu- 
setts furnished seven thousand three 
hundred. Greene having been advanc- 
ed to the rank of Major-General, his 
brigade had been placed under the 
command of Brigadier-General John 
Nixion, a sixth regiment from Mas- 
sachusetts, under Col. William Pres- 
cott, having been added to the force. 

On the 22d of August the British 
troops crossed from Staten to Long 
Island. When tidings of the enemy's 
landing reached Washington the troops 
were immediately put under arms. 
Col. Little expecting that morning- 
would bring on a battle, and remem- 
bering his promise to defend Fort 
Greene to the last extremity, wrote the 
following letter to his son Isaiah : 

AUG. 22, 1776. 

I have thought fit to send you nvy 
will. You will take all charge neces- 
sary, &c. The ene:ny this day landed 
on this island and marched within three 
miles of our camp. Three or four 
regiments lodge within two miles of the 
enemy. I expect morning will bring 
us a battle. 

Below is Col. Little's account of the 
battle : 

Sept. 1st, 1776. ) 

The enemy left Staten Island and 
landed on Long Island the 22d, and 
encamped on a large plain five or six 
miles aross, at Flat Bush, four miles 
distant. In the morning at two o'clock, 
the enenvy attacked our right wing ; a 
smart engagement for some time. The 
enemy also advanced on our left. Lord 
Stirling reinforced the right wing and 

'defended himself till 12 o'clock, when 
our wing gave way. My regiment was 
in the centre on guard. The enemy's 
right wing almost encircled two or 
three regiments, and as they were not 
together they were not able to defend 
themselves and retreated with about 
twenty wounded. Our people came 
in about eleven o'clock. The enemy 
at the same time with their light horse 
and English troops attempted to force 
our lines, but soon re treated, being met 
with a smart fire from our breast works. 

Two deserters informed us that the 
number of enemy's dead and wounded 
was upwards of five hundred I wish 
ours may not be more. On the morn- 
ing of the 28th, the enemy were en- 
camped on the heights in front of our 
encampment. Firing was kept up on 
both sides, from the right to the left. 
Weather very rainy ; 29th, very rainy. 
Firing by both sides in front of Fort 
Putnam. About sunset the enemy 
pushed to recover the ground we had 
taken (about one hundred rods) in 
in front of the fort. The fire was very 
hot, the enemy gave way and our peo- 
ple recovered the ground. The fire 
ceased and our people retired to the 
fort. The enemy took possession again, 
and on the morning of the 30th, had a 
breast work there sixty rods long and 
one hundred and fifty rods distant from 
Fort Putnam. 

Two ships of war had got up the 
sound as far as Hell-gate by this time. 
The general ordered each regiment to 
be paraded on their own parades at 7 
o'clock p. m. and wait for orders. We 
received orders to strike our tents and 
march with our baggage, to New York. 
Our lines were manned until day-break. 
The reason of the retreat was, that we 
should have no chance to retreat if the 
ships came up. I am not certain we 
shall be able to keep the city of New- 
York. You may hear of our being at 
King's bridge. A great battle I think 
will be fought here, or near King's 
bridge. I am in a good state of health. 
I am your affectionate father, 


To Mr. Josiah Little. 



Adjutant Josiah Adams, Lieut. Sam*- 
uel Huse, Moses Pillsbury, Samuel 
Smith, Chase Colby, Richard Short, 
and David Emery, were seven of the 
soldiers from Newbury in this battle. 
The two latter stood shoulder to shoul- 
der in the fray. M r. Short ever cher- 
ished a tender memory of his deceased 
comrade, an afiection extended to his 
son. To the latest day of his long life 
his first words of greeting always were, 
" David, your father and I faced death 

The following is taken from Col. Lit- 
tle's order book : 


(Col. Little's.) 

Officers for fatigue to-morrow Capt. 
Gerrish, Lt. Kent, and Lt. Atkinson." 

" Regimental Orders for the 12th 
Regiment of Foot : 

James Holland, a fifer in Cap. 
Dodge's Company, is appointed fife- 
major to this regiment, and is to be 
obeyed as such. Com'd officers for 
picket to-night Lt. Atkinson and Lt. 

May 21st, 1776. Field officer for 
picket to-morrow night Lt. Col. Cra- 
ry, Adj. from Col. Little's regiment." 


May 25, 1776. 

Capt. Silas Talbot of Col. Hitch- 
cock's regiment, Cap'u Frazier of 
Cap'n (Col.) Wayne's regiment, Lt. 
Noel Allen of Col. Varnum's regiment, 
and Lt. Samuel Huse of Col. Little's 
regiment, are a committee to inspect 
the provisions for the troops of this 

June 21, 1776. 

Lt. Huse is requested to oversee 
the well-digging in Fort Green. 

July 18, 1776. 

Field officer of the da}- to-morrow, 
Lt. Col. Henderson, Adj. from Col. 

Aug. 16, 1776. 
The gin shops, and houses selling 

liquor, strictly forbidden to sell to sol- 
diers. excepting near the two ferries. 
The General is determined to have an}" 
soldiers punished that may be found 
disguised with liquor, as no soldier in 
such a situation can be fit for defense 
or attack. 

The General orders that no sutler in 
the army shall sell to am- soldier more 
than 1 gill of spirits per day. If the 
above orders are not adhered to. there 
shall be no more retailed out at all. 

List of killed and missing at the bat- 
tle of Brooklyn, Col. Little's, Twelfth 
Continental (Mass.) 

Captain Parker's Company. 

Killed Peter Barthrick. 

Capt. AVade's Company. 

Missing Archelaus Pulsifer. 
Capt. Dodge's Company. 

Missing Elijah Lewis. 

After the battle of Brooklyn, Col. 
Little was entrusted with the command 
of an encampment at Peekskill, where 
he was detained by illness during Wash- 
ington's retreat through New Jersey. 
At the battles of Trenton and Princeton 
his troops were commanded by Lieut. - 
Col. Ilenshaw, but he rejoined the army 
in time for efficient service. His health 
being serious!}- impaired, he returned 
home in 1777. In 1779 he was appoint- 
ed by the Commonwealth to take com- 
mand of the naval armament, which 
was designed to dislodge the enemy at 
Penobscot, but declined on account of 
ill health. He lost his speech in 1781, 
from a stroke of paralysis, and died 
May 27, 1798, aged 74. 

Col. Little was characterized by sa- 
gacity, strength of mind, and a self- 
possession which in the most trying 
situations never deserted him. He 
made the acquaintance of Washington 
early in the war, who held him in high 
esteem, and often relied upon his judg- 
ment. An autograph letter from the 
latter, with the sword worn at the bat- 



tie of Bunker Hill, and other relics, are 
still in the possession of his descend- 

Col. Josiah, son of Col. Moses Lit- 
tle, born Feb. 16, 1747 ; married, Nov. 
23, 1770, Sarah, daughter of Edward 
Toppan, of Newbury . Like his father, 
Col. Josiah Little was noted for energy 
and activit}'. Until far advanced in 
years, he annually visited the lands he 
inherited in Maine, New Hampshire 
and Vermont, driving over the rough 
roads alone, even after he had lost one 
hand by a premature explosion while 
overseeing the blasting of a passage 
through some rapids on the Androscog- 
gin. He had charge of his father's 
real estate for many years. As the 
agent of the Pejebscot Company, whose 
claims were not very readily acknowl- 
edged, he was often brought into un- 
friendly relations with the squatters, 
who were numerous in Maine at that 
time. Tradition has handed down many 
laughable adventures, but frequently 
his personal safet}* was in jeopardy. 
In Newbury, Col. Little was both influ- 
ential and popular, representing the 
town in the General Court for nearly 
thirty successive } T ears. In addition to 
his other business he was largely en- 
gaged in shipping. At his death he 
left a fortune valued at several hundred 
thousand dollars. He died Dec. 26, 
1830, aged 83. 

Michael, oldest child of Col. Josiah 
Little was born March 14, 1772 ; grad- 
uated at Dartmouth in 1792 ; married, 
Oct. 19, 1800, Sarah Stover, who died 
July 28, 1801. His second wife was 
Elizabeth Ricker, of Somersworth. He 
died March 16, 1830. 

Hon. Edward Little, the second son 
of Col. Josiah Little, was born March 
12th, 1773. Graduated at Dartmouth 

College in 1797 ; married, Jan. 10th, 
1799, Hannah, daughter of Captain 
Thomas Brown of Newbury. She died 
Aug. 1st, 1828, aged 56 years. His 
second wife was Hannah, widow of Tap- 
pan Chase of Portland. He studied law 
in Newburyport in the office of Judge 
Parsons ; practised his profession for 
several } T ears with success ; was county 
attorney and publisher of law reports 
for the Commonwealth. After the fire 
of 1811, by which he lost nearly all of 
his property, he removed to Portland, 
and in 1826 to Auburn, where he con- 
tinued to reside during the remainder 
of his life. The owner, by inheritance, 
of the larger part of the surrounding 
territory, he had great influence in di- 
recting and promoting the growth of 
the place. He endowed an academy 
which continued in successful operation 
for forty j'ears. After the formation 
of the high school sj-stem the grounds 
and a portion of the funds were trans- 
ferred by the trustees to the town, 
which now maintains an Edward Little 
High School. He died Sept. 21st, 

Josiah, the third son of Col. Josiah 
Little, born Jan. 13th, 1791, graduated 
at Bowdoin in 1811; married, Jan. 
24th, 1814, Sophronia Balch. He was 
an extensive land owner, and engaged 
in manufactures ; a member of the 
Maine Historical Society, and an Over- 
seer of Bowdoin College, where he es- 
tablished a professorship of Natural 
Science, and founded the Public Libra- 
ry of Newbuiyport, where for many 
years he occupied the residence of 
the late Dr. Edmund Sawj-er on High 
street. He died Feb 5th, 1860. 

Josiah Stover, onby child of Michael 
and Sarah (Stover) Little, born July 
9th, 1801, graduated at Bowdoin at 



the head of the class of 1825 ; mar- 
ried Abby Chamberlain, Sept., 1833. 
He was President of the Atlantic and 
St. Lawrence Railroad, and Speaker of 
the Maine House of Representatives 
for several years. He died April 2d, 

Josiah, second son of Hon. Edward 
Little, born April 29th, 1801, was a 
graduate of Bowdoin, studied law with 
his father, practiced his profession for 
several years, afterwards engaged in 
manufactures. He married, Sept. 2d, 
1822, Mary Holt Cummings of Nor- 
way, Me., who died at Minot, Oct 6th, 
1829, aged 25 years and 6 months ; 
March 30th, 1830, Nancy Williams 
Bradford, who died at Auburn, Nov. 
20th, 1834, aged 26 years and 7 
months; May 26th, 1835, Sally 
Brooks, of Alfred, who died at Au- 
burn, April 15th, 1849, aged 41 years 
and 11 months, and May 20th, 1850, 
Charlotte Ann Brooks, who survives 

After an absence of man}- years he 
returned to his native place, Newbury- 
port, where he resided until his death. 
As a man of business he posessed ex- 
cellent judgment. As a citizen he was 
the firm friend of good order and good 
morals, furthering to his utmost the 
well-being of the communit}'. For 
man}* 3*ears he took a deep interest in 
the church and Christian institutions. 
He died Aug. 9th, 1863. 

Edward Toppan, third son of the 
Hon. Edward Little, born Dec. 29th, 
1809, studied law with his father, rep- 
resented his town in the State legisla- 
ture for several years, and was Judge 
of Probate for Androscoggin county. 
For many years he was a director in 
the Maine Central Railroad and of the 
First National Bank of Auburn. His 

reputation as an upright and able law- 
yer gave him an extensive practice. 
He married, Oct. 2d, 1839, Melinda C., 
daughter of the Rev. W. B. Adams, 
who died at Auburn, Sept. 30th, 1842 ; 
and June 9th. 1846, Lucy Jane, daugh- 
ter of Zeba Bliss. He died Novem- 
ber, 1805. 

Hon. Moses, the j'oungest son of 
Col. Moses Little, born Jan. 20th, 
1767, married, Aug. 6th, 1786, Eliza- 
beth, daughter of Shubael Dummer, 
who died Oct. 22d, 1840. He held 
the commission of justice of the peace 
for fifty years, represented the town of 
Newbury in the Legislature nineteen 
years, was a member of the conven- 
tion for altering the constitution of 
Massachusetts, and a deacon of the 
Belleville church for thirt}- years. He 
died April 28th, 1857. 

Moses, son of Moses and Lj-dia 
(Coffin) Little, born Feb. 26th, 1691 ; 
married Sarah, daughter of Sergeant 
Stephen and Deborah Jaques, Feb. 
12th, 1716. He died Oct. I7tk, 1780. 

The following epitaph is taken from 
stone in the upper burying ground, on 
the Plains, at Newbmy : 









"A wit's a feather, a chiefs a rod, 
An honest man's ye noblest work of God." 

Deacon Stephen, oldest son of Mr. 
Moses Little, born May 19th, 1719 ; 
manned, Aug. oth, 1743, Judith Bai- 
ley, who died 1764, aged 40, and af- 
terwards Mary Long, who survived 
him, dj'ing in 1798, in her 75th year ; 



Deacon Little died Aug. 30th, 1793. 
Jacob, the youngest child of Deacon 
Stephen Little, born 1763 ; married 
Hannah, daughter of Moses and Han- 
nah Sawyer. Sept. 28th, 1786. Their 
seventh child, Jacob, born March 19th, 
1797, in Newbury, Belleville,- was one 
of the most prominent of New York 
brokers. His father, Jacob Little, 
was a man of wealth and distinction, 
but commercial disasters swept away 
his property, and the war of 1812 near- 
!} completed his financial ruin. In 
1817 Mr. Little secured a situation for 
his son Jacob in counting-house of the 
renowned Jacob Barker, and at once 
he became a favorite with that success- 
ful merchant. After remaining with 
Mr. Barker five years, he began busi- 
ness on his own account as an ex- 
change specie broker, in a small base- 
ment office on Wall street. During the 
next twelve years, working eighteen 
hours a da}* in his little office, he 
promptly and shrewdly executed every 
order, and his success was due no less 
to his integrity than to his talent. In 
1834 Mr. Little stood at the head of 
the leading financiers and bankers of 
the city, but commercial disaster over- 
took him. Thrice Mr. Little was car- 
ried down, but he was never dishonor- 
ed. He recovered himself, and paid 
up his contracts in full. On his first 
suspension, though legally free from 
liability, he disbursed nearly $1,000,- 
000, paying every creditor in full with 
interest, so that it was a common say- 
ing among moneyed men, that Jacob 
Little's suspended paper was better 
than the checks of most merchants. 
He closed his long career without a 
stain upon his mercantile reputation. 
He died March 28th, 1865, leaving a 
widow and one son. The newsof his 

death startled the great city. Mer- 
chants congregated to do him honor. 
Resolutions of enduring respect were 
adopted, and the Stock Board adjourn- 
ed to attend his funeral. He was 
borne to his burial in Greenwood Cem- 
etery with all honor. 

Paul, the youngest son of Mr. Moses 
Little, born April 1, 1740 ; married, 
Ma}' 20, 1762, Hannah Emer}-, who 
died in September, 1771 ; widow Sarah 
Souther of Ipswich, Aug. 30, 1772, who 
died Sept. 26, 1797, aged 54 ; and af- 
terwards widow Sarah Emerson of 
Boxford, who died Ma}'25, 1817, aged 
55. He moved from Newburyport to 
Portland in 1761 ; was a goldsmith by 
trade, but engaged in commercial busi- 
ness to a considerable extent. After 
the destruction of the town by the Brit- 
ish in 1776 he removed to Windham, 
where many of his descendants still re- 

Silas Little, born in March, 1754 ; 
graduated at Dartmouth in 1792 ; mar- 
ried his cousin Lucretia, daughter of 
Joseph and Elizabeth Hazen Little, and 
died in 1845. Squire Little was a prom- 
inent citizen, and owned a fine fa^-m in 
Oldtown. Among other public offices, 
he was one of the selectmen, and a rep- 
resentative to the state legislature for 
several years. 

Moses Little, born July 3, 1766 ; 
graduated at Harvard in 1787 ; was a 
physician in Salem, Mass., and died 
Oct. 13, 1811. 

William Little, born Oct. 14, 1825 ; 
married Ellen M. Carlton, of Haverhill, 
Oct. 6, 1864. Town clerk of Newbury 
for over twenty 3"ears, and president of 
the Antiquarian and Historical Society 
of Old Newbury. 

David Little Withington, born in 
Newbury, Feb. 2, 1854 ; graduated at 



Harvard in 1874. A practicing lawyer 
in Boston and Newburyport. 

Lothrop Withington, born in New- 
bury, Jan. 31, 1856 ; educated at Dum- 
mer Academy and Putnam Free School, 
graduating at the latter in 1872. Since 
1873, has resided a large part of the 
tune in England and France. Edited 
and published "The Ocean Wave," a 
daily evening paper, in Newburyport, 
from October, 1878, to April, 1879, and 
was lately on the staff of the Newbury- 
port Herald. 

Russel Moody Little, born in 1858 ; 
a student at Amherst. 

The exact pedigree of George Little, 
of Unicorn street, London, I have been 
unable to learn ; the family descent can 
be traced by the coats of arms. The 
first granted are : Little Sable, a sal- 
tire or (another or) . The next record 
of these arms are : Little, Meichledale, 
Scotland Sa, saltire, engr. or ; Little, 
Liberton, Scotland the same arms, 
with a crescent for difference. Crest, 
a leopard's head or ; motto, Magnum 
in parvo. 

At some period between 1698 and 
1731, a William Little, of Liberton, 
county Edinburgh, a gentleman of an- 
cient family, which had been in posses- 
sion of the barony of Liberton for over 
a hundred years preceding, married 
Helen, daughter of Sir Alexander Gil- 
mour, of Craigmillar in the same coun- 
ty. Next in order comes Geoi'ge Lit- 
tle, esq., of Llanvair Grange, county 
Monmouth, Wales. Arms : 


There was a family of Littles, of 
Kilnrea, Yorkshire, England, recorded 
as " long time resident in this parish," 
in 1671, but the arms are a lion. 

The arms transmitted by the descend- 
ants of George Little in America are : 



The arms of the family of Alice 
Poore, the first wife of George Little, 
are : 




The Amery's (or Emery's) first an- 
cestor in England was Gilbert D'Amery, 
a Norman Knight of Tours, who, in 



1066, fought at Hastings with William 
the Conqueror. The Roll of Battle 
Abbey, where the names of the Con- 
queror's chieftains are recorded, gives 
the name as " Damery." 

Gilbert D'Amery received large land- 
ed estates from William the Conqueror. 
He owned Thackingdon, and half a 
dozen manors, near Oxford, which were 
held by his descendants until 1376, 
when the third Baron Richard D'Ame- 
ry died. They long dwelt at Berkwell 
manor, ten miles from Oxford, where 
still stands the church they built. The 
property went b}- heiresses to other 
names, but John represented the coun- 
t}' in parliament as late as 1423. An- 
other John settled in Devon, and his 
heir held the manor of White Chapel 
at Bishops Nympton, which Frances, 
the heiress of William, carried to Ed- 
ward Gibbon, whose tablet, at Tiver- 
ton, is dated 1707. 

Thomas Emer}% citizen and uphold- 
er, of London, left a will, dated March 
11, 1533, proved June 2, 1534, be- 
queathing his soul to God, the Virgin 
Maiy, &c., and desiring to be buried 
in the churchyard of St. Michael, 
Cornhill, London. 

Edward Emery, of Mary at Rooting, 
County Essex, gent., will dated Oct. 
30, 1637, proved Jan. 15, 1641, names 
elder brother Thomas Emery, and ap- 
points his younger brother, Anthony 
Emery, his executor. 

The Herald's Visitation of Essex, 
1634, contains the following : 

' ' Thomas Emery als Amery of Lit- 
tle Baddow co. Essex, Thomas Emery 
of Little Baddow eldest sonn, mar. 
Mary dau. of Folliett of qu Filliot, 
Oldhall in Rayne. Thomas Emery of 
Little Baddow co. Essex 1634, mar. 
Jane, daughter of Bay ley of Wades- 

mill co. Hertford ; children, Edward, 
Anthony, Maiy, Elisabeth." 

Thomas Ameiy, son of Robert and 
Miss Elliot, held estates near Bristol. 
He married the daughter of the nine- 
teenth Lord Keny. His brother Jona- 
than came to Carolina as advocate-gen- 
eral and treasurer. His daughter Sarah 
married Gov. Arthur Middleton. His 
son Thomas settled in Boston. 

Edwards, in his Life of Sir Walter 
Raleigh, quotes a letter from John 
Hooker to Sir Walter : 

"Your ancestor, Sir John de Ra- 
leigh, married the daughter of D'Ame- 
rie, D'Amerie of Clare, Clare of King 
Edward the First, which Clare, by his 
father, descended of King Henry the 

In a volume of French history it is 
said that when Napoleon had resolved 
to negotiate " avec Rome pour retab- 
lir' L'ancien culte," his first advances 
were " sous la direction religieuse du 
respectable abbe Emery, superieur gen- 
eral de Saint Sulspice." 

Anthony and John Emery, the first 
in America, came from Romsey, Eng- 
land, in the ship James, to Ipswich, 
thence to Newbury, in June, 1635. 
Romsey is a . rare old town in Hamp- 
shire (Hants), on the river Esk (the 
Auton of the Roman period). The 
broad, but winding and shallow vale is 
indescribably beautiful, with its manors 
and cottages amidst the slumberous fol- 
iage, its wheat meadows, green slopes, 
and crystal "Auton water." Flocks 
of Southdowns dot the pasture swells, 
and myriads of sparrows sweep around 
the ripening grain acres. Towards 
Southampton stretches the superb park 
and forest of " Broadlands," the seat 
of Lord Palmerston. Beyond is the 
old mediaeval town ; the great square 
tower of the abbey church of St. Mary's 



towering above the quaint buildings, 
with the walled and buttressed bridge 
of high arches spanning the gleaming 
river. In the churchyard of the old 
abbey (one of the oldest in England, 
a part of the walls having been erected 
in the twelfth century, by Henry l)e 
Blois, bishop of Winchester) repose 
the dust of successive generations of 
Emerys, and within its time-honored 
walls Anthony and John Emery were 
baptised. In the churcl^'ard were in- 
terred my Smith ancestors. Thomas 
Smith came from Romsey. It was 
from the worship in this ancient pile 
that the forefathers seceded to join the 
sect of the Puritans. The Emerys are 
stiU represented in Romsey. A John 
Emery recently deceased there, who 
counted his descent from an ancestor 
in the middle ages. 

Anthon} r Emery, with his wife Fran- 
ces, and son James (born in England), 
went to Dover as early as 1644, where 
he occupied land which he purchased of 
Stephen Goddard in 1643. In 1646 he 
had a grant of land of the town, and 
was one of the selectmen of Dover. 
He kept a tavern, but, having trouble 
with the authorities respecting his li- 
cense to sell wines, &c., in 1648 he as- 
signed his land to Thomas Layton, and 
moved to Kitten-, and settled in what 
is now called Elliot. He signed the 
submission to Massachusetts, in 1652, 
and was elected as one of the towns- 
men or selectmen for that 3'ear, and 
also for 1654. He received from the 
town, in 1650, grants of land of two 
hundred acres. He was the first ferry- 
man between Kittery and "Strawberry 
Bank " ; a prominent citizen, holding- 
several local offices ; a smart, enter- 
prising man ; and many of his descend- 
ants are notable persons. The time of 
his death is unknown. 

James Emeiy, born about 1630 ; 
came to this country with his father ; 
went to Kittery, and signed the sub- 
mission to Massachusetts in 1652. He 
had grants of land from the town of 
Kittery from 1652 to 1671 of four hun- 
dred and ten acres ; was one of the se- 
lectmen of Kittery for several years, 
and was a representative to the General 
Court at Boston in 1676. His wife was 
Elizabeth. Children : James, born 
about 1658 ; Zachariah, born in 1660 ; 
Noah, born in 1663 ; Daniel, born in 
1666 ; Job, born in 1670. 

James Emery, son of James, mar- 
ried Margaret, daughter of Richard 
Hitchcock, Dec. 18, 1685. Children : 
Margaret, born Dec. 18, 1686 ; James, 
born Feb. 18, 1688 ; Lydia, born April 
28, 1891; Frances, born Dec. 17, 
1694; Rebekah, bora March 7, 1697 
(the latter married Daniel Smith, of 
Saco, Jan. 1, 1719, and Matthew Ladd, 
of Falmouth, Ma}- 7, 1755) ; Samuel, 
born Sept. 2, 1700 ; Elizabeth, born 
March 7, 1703 ; Thomas, born Dec. 2, 
1706 ; Lucretia, born March 6, 1709. 

Zachariah Emery received from the 
town of Kittery in 1665 a grant of 
fifty acres. His wife was Elizabeth. 
Children : Elizabeth, born Nov. 24, 
1687 ; Zachariah, born Oct. 5, 1690. ' 

Xoah Emery had a grant of land 
from the town of Kittery, in 1885 and 
1699, of one hundred acres. 

Daniel Emery married Margaret, 
daughter of William Gowen, March 17, 
1695. He died Oct. lo, 1722. He 
had a grant of twenty acres of land in 
1694. He was an original member of 
the church in South Berwick in 1702, 
a deacon in 1703, and an elder in 1720. 
He and his brother James were select- 
men of the town in 1707, and for sev- 
eral subsequent 3'ears. He was also 



noted surveyor of land. His farm in 
Elliot is still owned and occupied by 
his descendants. His children were : 
Daniel, born June 25, 1697 ; Noah, 
born Dec. 11, 1699, settled in Exeter, 
N. H. ; Simon, born Jan. 6, 1702 ; 
Zachariah, born March 12, 1704 ; Mar- 
garet, born March 3, 1707 ; Caleb, 
born Oct. , 1710 ; Ann, born March 
19, 1712 ; Joshua, born June 30, 1715 ; 
Tirzah, born Sept. 19, 1717 (married 
Dudley James, of Exeter, Jan. 12, 
1753) ; Huldah, born Aug. 4, 1720. 

Job Emery had grants of land from 
Kittery, in 1694 and 1699, of thirty 
acres. His wife was Charity. Chil- 
dren : Job, born Jan. 29, 1697 ; Char- 
ity, born April 24, 1699 ; Sarah, born 
Feb. 4, 1700 ; Joseph, born Feb. 4, 
1702 (married Mehitable Stacy, Oct. 
10, 1727 ; she was born Feb. 4, 1705) ; 
Jonathan, bora Feb. 27, 1709 ; Eliza- 
beth, born July 8, 1711 ; Mary Abigail, 
born Nov. 17, 1713 ; Miriam, born 
April 8, 1716 ; Jabez, born July 13, 
1718 ; Mary, born Dec. 4, 1720. 

John Emery secured a grant of land 
on the southerly side of the main road 
leading to the bridge over the river 
Parker, a short distance above the 
"Lower Green," Oldtown. He had 
been accompanied from England l)y his 
wife (whose maiden name is unknown) , 
a son, John, born about 1629, and a 
daughter, Anna, born in 1631. The 
record of the third child, the first born 
in America, is: " Ebenezer, a daugh- 
ter, 16 Sept.,- 1848, being Monday 
morning, two hours before day." ''Eb- 
enezer : Hitherto hath the Lord helped 
us." Evidently this daughter was 
named from hearts overflowing with 
thankfulness. Though Miss Ebenezer 
might not have exactl}' fancied her 
Christian name, I doubt not it gave her 

Puritan sire the keenest satisfaction. 
Mrs. Emery died the April following 
the birth of this daughter. The 29th 
of October, 1650, John Emery married 
Mary (Shatswell) Webster, widow of 
John Webster, of Ipswich. They had 
one son, Jonathan Emery. 

John Emery, jr., Oct. 2, 1648, mar- 
ried Miss Mar}- Webster, a daughter of 
the widow Mary (Shatswell) Webster. 
Children : Mary, born June 24, 1652 ; 
Hannah, born April 26, 1654 ; John, 
born Sept. 12, 1656 ; Bethia, born Oct. 
15, 1658 ; Sarah, born Feb. 26, 1661 ; 
Joseph, born March 23, 1663 ; Stephen, 
born, Sept. 6, 1666 ; Abigail, born Jan. 
16, 1669 ; Samuel, born Dec. 20, 1670 ; 
Judith, born Feb. 4, 1673 ; Lydia, born 
Feb. 19,' 1675 ; Elizabeth, born Feb. 8, 
1680; Josiah, born Feb. 28, 1681. 
John Emery died in 1693. Mary, his 
widow, died April 28, 1694. 

Anna Emery married, Nov. 23, 1648, 
James Ordway, who, tradition says, 
came from Wales to Newbury. He 
was born in 1620, and died after 1702. 
Anna, his wife, died March 31, 1687. 
Children : Ephraim, born April 25, 
1650 ; James, born April 16, 1651 ; 
Edward, born Sept. 14, 1653 ; Sarah, 
born Sept. 14, 1656 ; John, born Nov. 
17, 1658 ; Isaac, born Dec. 4, 1660, 
and died Jan. 16, 1669 ; Jane, born 
Nov. 12, 1663 ; Hananiah, born Dec. 
2, 1865 ; Anne, born Feb. 17, 1670. 

Jonathan Emeiy, second son of John, 
senior, married, Nov. 29, 1676, Mary, 
daughter of Edward Woodman, jr. 
Children : Mary, born Sept. 24, 1677 ; 
Jonathan, born Feb. 2, 1679 ; David, 
born Sept. 28, 1682 ; Anthony, born 
Nov. 13, 1684 ; Stephen, born Jan. 13, 
1687, and died in Oct., 1688; Sara, 
born Dec. 18, 1688 ; Stephen, born 



June 24, 1692 ; Edward, born Nov. 10, 
1694, and James. 

Eleanor Emery, a sister of Anthony 
and John, married John Bailey, jr., 
who came to Salisbury, thence to New- 
bury, in 1650. Children : Rebecca, 
born 1641 ; John, born May IS, 1643, 
and died June 22, 1663 ; Joshua, 
died April 7, 1652 ; Sarah, born 
Aug. 17, 1644 ; Joseph, born April 
4, 1648 ; James, born Sept. 12, 1650 ; 
Joshua, born Feb. 17, 1653 ; Isaac, 
born July 22, 1654 ; Rachel, born 
Oct. 19, 1662 ; Judith, born Aug. 3, 
1665, and died Sept. 20, 1668. 

Ebenezer Emery married, April 21, 
1669, John Hoag. Children : John, 
born Feb. 20, 1670 : Jonathan, born 
Oct. 28, 1671 ; Joseph, born Jan. 10, 
1677 ; Hannah, born Jan. 3, 1683 ; 
Judith, born April 20. 1687. 

John, oldest son of Jonathan and 
Mary (Woodman) Emery, married, 
March 1, 1705, Hannah Morss. She 
died Oct. 4, 1732. In 1733, Mr. Em- 
ery married Rebecca Walker. Chil- 
dren: Hannah, born June 19, 1706, 
married Edward Holman, May 19, 
1726; Joshua, born March 21, 1708, 
married Sarah Smith, March 28, 1728 ; 
David, born Jan. 24, 1710, married 
Abigail, daughter of Deacon Daniel 
Chase, Jan. 27, 1732. She died Aug. 
29, 1753, aged 38. His second wife's 
maiden name was Mary Pillsbury ; she 
first married John Hills, in 1728, sec- 
ond, Enoch Hale, Feb. 1, 1750 ; Sa- 
rah, born Dec., 1711, married David 
Chase, Nov. 24, 1729 ; Dr. Anthony, 
born Sept. 5, 1713, married Abigail 
Leavitt, of Hampton, N. H., May 10, 
1738 ; Mehitabel, born Oct. 12, 1718, 
married Nathan Morss, Oct. 20, 1742 ; 
Judith, born Jan. 10, 1722, married 
Samuel Smith, Dec. 2, 1742; Mary, 

born Dec. 8, 1726, married William 
Smith, May 20, 1747. 

David, second son of John and Han- 
nah Emery, obtained a grapt of land 
in the "West Precinct" of Newbury, 
on the main road in the upper parish, 
and became one of the wealthiest citi- 
zens in that part of the town. His 
children, all by his first wife, Abigail 
Chase, were : David, born Jan. 23, 
1734, died Feb. 14, 1734 ; John, born 
Jan. 16, 1735, married Edna Noyes, 
April 7, 1756 ; Abigail, born June 2, 
1737, married Ephraim Boynton, Feb. 
19,1756; Hannah, born Feb., 1739, 
married Daniel Hills, May 15, 1757 ; 
Martha, born March 1, 1741, married 
Nathaniel Bailej*, August 6, 1761 ; 
Sarah, born June 24, 1744, married 
Enoch Noyes, Oct. 30, 1765 ; Moses, 
born Jan. 13, 1748, married Sarah 
Hale, Sept. 27, 1770 children, Abi- 
gail, John, Jacob, and Moses ; Thom- 
as, born 1750, married Ruth March, 
Oct. 10, 1770. and died Nov. 21, 1770. 
His widow married John White, 3rd, 
May 7, 1772. 

David Emery and his second wife 
died from dysentery, a short time from 
each other. Their gravestones read : 



DIED SEPT. 16, 1778, 

AGED 66. 


DIEB OCT. 29th> 1773, 


John, son of David and Abigail 
(Chase) Emery, married Edna, daugh- 
ter of Capt. Ephraim Noyes, for his 
first wife. Edna (Noyes) Emery, a 
great-granddaughter of Mr. Nicholas 
Noyes, and great-grandneice of Rev. 
James Noyes, also descended from a 
noteworthy family on the maternal side, 



her mother being Abigail, the second 
child of Jonas and Anna (Bailey) 
Platts, and granddaughter of Dea. Jos- 
eph Bailey, of Bradford. 

Dea. Joseph Bailey was the only 
child of Richard Bailey, who came 
from Yorkshire, England, to America, 
when he was fifteen years old, with 
Richard Dummer, in the ship Bevis, 
150 tons, Robert Batten, master, in 
April, 1638. At that early age, young 
Bailey was noted for piety ; and, dur- 
ing a violent storm on the voyage, he 
was called upon b} T the ship's company 
to pray for their safety. He married 
P^dna Holstead, and purchased an es- 
tate in Rowley. He was one of a com- 
pany to set up the first cloth mill in 
America, which was in Rowhry, on the 
site of the present "Bummer's (Glen) 
Mills." Richard Bailey died in 1647 
or 1648. In 1619, Edna, the widow 
of Richard Bailey, married Ezekiel 
Northend, of Rowley, who probably 
took possession of the homestead, as 
it has been in. the possession of the 
Northend family from that time. 

When Dea. Joseph Bailey obtained 
his lot, and built his house, the home- 
stead was included within the ancient 
precincts of Rowley, that part border- 
ing the river bearing the designation of 
" Merrimac Land." This was soon in- 
corporated as the town of Bradford, 
and in 1850 the east part of Bradford, 
in which his farm was situated, was set 
off as a separate town under the name of 
Groveland. Deacon Bailey was one of 
the leading men of Bradford, in civil, 
military and ecclesiastical affairs. He 
was one of the selectmen twenty-three 
years between 1675 and 1710, and one 
of the deacon's from the formation of 
the church until his death, Oct. 11, 

The Bailey arms are : 





The children of John and Edna 
(Noyes) Emer}' were : Ephraim, born 
Feb. 28, 1758 ; David, born April 20, 
1763 ; Hannah, who died in childhood. 
Mrs. Emery deceased soon after, and 
Mr. Emery married Betty Smith, of 
Crane-neck hill. He lived but a short 
time after this union, and his widow 
married Col. Spofford, of New Row- 

Ephraim, oldest son of John and 
Edna Emery, married Mary, daughter 
of Peter Russell, of Bradford. hil- 
dren : Mary, Thomas, Sohn and Han- 

David Emery, the second son, born 
April 20, 1763, married Betty, only 
daughter of John and Ruth (Hale) 
Little. He died Oct. 21, 1785. Their 
son, David, was born Dec. 22, 1785. 
The third year of her widowhood, Betty 
(Little) Emery married Moses Column, 
of By field. 

iStephen, third son of John, jr., and 
Mary (Webster) Emery, born in 1666, 
married Ruth Jaques in 1692, and set- 
tled on a farm, on the " river road," in 
what is now the first parish in West 



Newbury. Children : Anna, Sarah, 
Ruth, Mary, Judith, Abigail, Elizabeth, 
Stephen, Hannah, Miriam, and Lydia. 

Lydia, born in 1717, married her 
kinsman, Moses Eineiy. Their chil- 
dren were : Lydia, Mary, John, Moses, 
Josiah, Nathan, Sarah, Anna, Amos, 
and Michael. 

Amos, born in 1757, married Anna 
Mood}* in 1784. Children : Hannah, 
Anna, Ebenezer, Lydia, Miriam, Mo- 
ses, Amos and Jacob Moody. 

A part of the farm is still the resi- 
dence of the widow and daughters of 
the late Jacob Moody Emery. A clock 
that had ticked in its corner at the 
homestead, for nearly one hundred and 
fifty years, has recently been taken to 
Portland, Maine, by a grandson of Amos 
Emery, Amos Emeiy Howell, where it 
has been rejunevated, looking even bet- 
etter than in its palmiest days, over a 
century ago. 

Michael Emeiy was one of the first 
carriage builders of Amesbury. John 
Emery, senior, must have been a man 
of consideration and education, as we 
find his name bearing honorable men- 
tion, in the earliest annals of the set- 
tlement. February 1st, 1638, the town 
ordered that "John Emery shall make a 
sufficient pound for the use of the 
towne, two rods and a halfe square, by 
the last of the present month if he cann." 
On the following 17th of May, An- 
thony Emeiy was fined ' twenty shil- 
lings for a pound breach, and to give 
thirteen shillings and fourpence to Thom- 
as Coleman for his charges." Dec. 18th, 
1645, a committee of seven men was ap- 
pointed " at a publique meeting for. to 
procure a water mill for to be built and 
set up in said towne (of Newbury). 
to grind theyr corne." And they agreed 
to give John Emery and Samuel Scul- 

lard 20 in merchantable pay, to give 
them ten acres of upland, and six acres 
of meadow, and that the said mill is to 
' ' be free from all rates for the first sev- 
en years, and to be a freehold to them 
and their heirs forever, the}' on their 
part agreeing to sett up said mill be- 
tween Nicholas Holt's point and Ed- 
ward Woodman's bridge, ready for the 
town's use, to grind the town's grists, 
at or before the twenty-ninth of Sept. 

This was the second grist mill estab- 
lished in Newbury the first was erect- 
ed at " the falls," on the river Parker, 
by Messrs Dummer & Spencer, in ac- 
cordance with the grant from the Gen- 
eral Court, and an agreement with the 
town in 1635. 

May 18th, 1647, the town, for three 
pounds, granted to John Emery " that 
parcell of land called the greene, about 
three akers, being more or lesse, bound- 
ed by the half-acre lots on the west, 
the live way on the south-east, and his 
own land on the north; being in a tri- 
angle, only the twenty rods is reserved 
in said land for a burying place as it 
is bounded with stakes with a way to it 
from the east." 

This burying place is situated east of 
Oldtown hill, and is still called the 
" Emery lot." At a short distance 
may be seen the site of the first resi- 
dence of John Emery with the well 
near by. 

At the court in Salem. May 5th. 1 663, 
John Emery was fined four pounds for 
entertaining Quakers. His offence con- 
sisted in granting food and lodging to 
two men and two women, who were 
travelling together farther east. 

In George Bishop's "New England 
Judged," will be found this narration : 

" Edward and George Preston, and 



Mary Tompkins and Alice Ambrose, 
alias Gary, passed eastward to visit the 
seed of God in those parts, and in their 
way through Newbury, they went into 
the house of one John Emery, (a friend- 
ly man) , who with his wife seemed 
glad to receive them, at whose house 
they found freedom to stay all night, 
and when the next morning came the 
priest, Thomas Parker, and many of 
his followers came to the man's house, 
and much reasoning and dispute there 
was about truth ; but the priest's and 
many of the people's ears were shut 
against the truth. And in the time of 
their discourse, the wind striving in 
Mary Tompkin's stomach, making some 
noise, she having received no sustenance 
for the space of near forty-eight hours, 
one Joseph Pike, after the}' were depart- 
ed the town said 'she had a devil in her.' 
After a while the priest perceiving that 
the battle might be too hard for him, 
rose up, and took the man of the house 
and his wife out of doors with him, 
and began to deal with them for enter- 
taining such dangerous people. They 
replied they were required to entertain 
strangers. The priest said it was dan- 
gerous entertaining such as had plague 
sores upon them.. Which the women 
hearing, b'egan to take the priest to do 
for saying such false, wicked and ma- 
licious words, but he hasted away. Ma- 
ry Tompkins called him to come back 
again, and not to show himself to be 
one of those hirelings that flee and 
leave their flocks behind them, but he 
would not." 

It appears by the following, that John 
Emery was not completely over-awed 
by the good but mistaken Parker : 

'The testimony of Henry Jaquesaged 
about 44 years, saith, that I heard Jo- 
seph Noyes say, that after that time 
that the Quakers had their meeting at 
John Emery's, that he saw two Qua- 
kers at John Emery's house, and 
John Emery bade them welcome, and 
further saith that I heard Joseph Noyes 
say, that John Emery had entertained 
Quakers, both to bed and table, after 
the time they had their meeting at J ohn 

Emery's house, and this he testified be- 
fore the church at Newbury, and farth- 
er I do testify that I heard John Em- 
ery and his wife say that he had enter- 
tained Quakers and that he would not 
put them from his house, and used ar- 
gument for the lawfulness of it. 


Sworn in Court, May 7, 1663, 

Before Robert Lord, Clerk." 

[This Henry Jaques w r as a constable 
of Newbury.] 

"The Deposition of Joseph Noyes, 
aged 26 years : 

This Deponent saith yt as he was 
agoing to Goodman Emerie's sen., he 
overtook two w r omen Quakers, and sup- 
posing they would call at ye house of 
ye forementioned Emmery, he desired 
him not to entertain ym. But whilst 
he was in discourse, the}- came into ye 
house, and staid until he went away. 
Goodman Emmery was in ye chamber, 
(as he knows, because he ym upon 
an occasion called out to his wife) 
his wife being in ye same room with ye 
Quakers, at his house wn Mr. Parker 
was yr. Farther he had understood by 
those yt wr eye-witnesses, yt two men 
Quakers wr yr entertained very kindly 
to bed and table, & John Emmerie 
shook ym by ye hand and bid ym wel- 
come. Ye substance of ys he or his 
wife in his presence told him and 
owned it, (according to his best remem- 
brance) more yn once. This also ws 
severl days after ye meeting above 

Taken upon Oath 24, 4th, 67, 
before me, Simon Bradstree't." 

At this period one can scarcely de- 
pict the commotion such an incident 
must have caused in the secluded and 
quiet settlement of Quascacunquen, on 
the banks of the winding Parker, or 
appreciate the courage evinced by John 
Emery and his wife in thus rising above 
popular prejudice, and fanatical bigotry 
and intolerance. 

The Quaker guests, Mary Tompkins 
and Alice Ambrose, came from Eng- 



land to Boston, with George Preston in 
1662. These women in company with 
a third, Anna Colman, on their visit to 
the "seed of God" in New Hampshire, 
aroused the indignation of the authori- 
ties, and Capt. Richard Waldron of 
Dover was impowered to act in the ex- 
ecution of the laws against ' ' the wick- 
ed errors of Quakers," upon which he 
issued the following proclamation : 

"To the Constables of Dover, Hamp- 
ton, Salisbury, Newbmy, Rowley, Ips- 
wich, Windham, Lynn, Boston, Rox- 
bury, Declham, and until these vaga- 
bond Quakers are out of our jurisdic- 

"You and -every one of you are re- 
quired in the King's Majesty's name to 
take these vagabond Quakers, Anna 
Colman, Maiy Tompkins, and Alice 
Ambrose, that they be stripped naked 
from the middle upwards, and make 
them fast to the cart's tail, and drawing 
the cart through the several towns, to 
whip them upon their naked backs not 
exceeding ten stripes apiece on each of 
them in each town, and so convey them 
from constable to constable till they 
are out of this jurisdiction, as you will 
answer it at }~our peril and this shall be 
your warrent. 

Per me, 

Dover, Dec. 22, 1662. 

This order was executed in Dover, 
Hampton, and Salisbur} 7 ; but through 
the intervention of Walter Barefoot, 
Deputy Governor of New Hampshire, 
Newbury escaped the disgrace of such 
an act of cruelty. On pretence of de- 
livering the persecuted females to the 
constables of Newbuiy, Gov. Barefoot 
took them from the New Hampshire 
constables, and secured them from fur- 
ther molestation b}' sending them out 
of the Province. 

In October, 1657, the General Court 
had ordered that the penalty for enter- 

taining Quakers should be forty shil- 
lings. In 1659, Thomas Mac} r , one of 
the first settlers of Newbury, but at 
that time a resident of Salisbury, was 
summoned to appear before the Gener- 
al Court, for violating the above law. 
Instead of complying, he sent a letter 
of which the following is a cop} r : 

' ' This is to entreat the honored court 
not to be offended because of my non- 
appearance. It is not from slighting 
the authority of this honored court, nor 
from feare to answer the case ; but I 
have bin for some weeks past, very ill, 
and am so at present, and notwithstand- 
ing my illness, yet I, desirous to ap- 
pear, have done my utmost endeavor 
to hire a horse, but I cannot procure 
one at present ; I being at present des- 
titute have endeavored to purchase, but 
at present cannot attaine it, but I shall 
relate the truth of the case as my an- 
swer should be to ye honored court, 
and more cannot be proved, nor so 
much. On a rainy morning there came 
to nry house Edward Wharton and 
three men more ; the said Wharton 
spoke to me saying that they were trav- 
elling eastward, and desired me to di- 
rect them in the way to Hampton, and 
asked me how far it was to Casco bay. 
I never saw airy of ye men afore except 
'\Yharton, neither did 1 require their 
names, or who the}' were, but by their 
carriage I thought they might be qua- 
kers, and told them so, and therefore 
desired them to pass on their way, say- 
ing to them I might possibly give of- 
fence in entertaining them ; as soon as 
the violence of the rain ceased (for it 
rained veiy hard) , they went awa}', and 
I never saw them since. The time 
that they were in the house was about 
three-quarters of an hour, but I can 
safely affirme it was not an houre. 
Thej- spake not many words in the time, 
neither was I at leisure to talke with 
them, for I came home wet to ye skin 
immediately afore the}' came to the 
house, and I found my wife sick in bed. 
If this satisfie not the honored court, I 
shall subject to their sentence ; I have 



not willingly offended, I am ready to 
serve and obe}' you in the Lord. 


Notwithstanding this explanation and 
apology, Mr. Macy was fined thirty 
shillings, and was ordered to be admon- 
ished by the governor. Tradition in- 
forms us that Thomas Macy, immedi- 
ately after his sentence, with his family 
repaired to Nantuckct in an open boat, 
being one of the first English settlers 
on that island, where he passed the re- 
mainder of his life. This . incident, 
Whittier has woven into one of his 
most charming ballads. 

Two of the Quakers who received 
shelter in Thomas Macy's house, Wil- 
liam Robinson and Marmaduke Ste- 
phenson, were hung at Boston, Decem- 
ber 27, 1659. 

There is more "truth than poetry" 
in Jay's ' Innocency's Complaint," 
where he writes, "The making laws 
for to ensnare the just of God, is hated 
and to be accurst. The Massachusetts 
is alike for crime unto Judea in Christ 
Jesus' time. Here laws are extant 
that doth terrify well-meaning men and 
Liberty deny. Here innocents are 
fined, whipt and branded, ears cropped, 
some sold for slaves, some lashed, some 
hanged. Whoever is contrary to them 
found, tho' in his spirit, their fine must 
be five pounds, or else three days in 
jail ere a discharge, and with a ten- 
lashed whipping be enlarged." 

The following, respecting the enter- 
tainment of Dr. Henry Greenland, 
Newbury's earliest physician, has been 
found among the -Massachusetts ar- 
chives : 

Copy of the Petition of John Emery, 
sen., of Newbury to the Massachusetts 
General Court, in relation to his fine 
for "Entertaining Strangers," 1663. 

May 21, 1663. 

To the honord Generall Court now 
assembled at Boston the Humble pe- 
tition of John Emery humbly showethe 
That your Petitioner dwelling in New- 
bury, It so fell out by Providence of 
God that a certain Gentleman (named 
Mr. Henry Greenland) coming from 
England upon his occasion was by rea- 
son of his acquaintance with Capt. 
Barefoot &c. inclinable to settle in ye 
Country if hee liked, and to make use 
of his practise of Physic and Chirur- 
gery amongst us ; But being as yet un- 
settled & oncertanie where to fix untill 
his wife (whom hee hath sent for) did 
come By Reason of some employment 
by 3*e Providence of God presented it- 
self to him ; hee was necissarily put 
upon it to reside neer such Patients 
as had put themselves into his hands 
for Cure : Among which one being 
more than ordinarily disordered Hee 
Desired entertainment. And jour Pe- 
titioner did for Reason above men- 
tioned Receive and entertain him this 
winter past for which* I am fined four 
Pounds by ye hon'rd Court at Ipswich 
for Breach of a Law ; not having [at 
first] License under the hand of a mag- 
istrate : hee himselfe being a stranger 
and not knowing the Law, nor your Pe- 
titioner the Humble request of your 
Petitioner is ; That this honobl Court 
would bee Pleased to remit ye saide 
fine (it being not done in Contempt 
but only as necessarily occasioned as 
above sd.) wherein ye Gentleman hath 
by God's .blessing been furthered & 
been of much good by his calling ; Both 
in Physick and Chirurgery and your 
pore Petitioner shall ever Praj". 

We the Selectmen & such others as 
are subscribed, Considering the useful- 
ness of Mr. Greenlands in respect of 
his practice in our towne, do humbly 
desire the same if this hon'd court 

John Pike, 
Richard Thurlo, 

Peter Godrie, 
James Ordway, 
Lionel Worth, 

Abraham Toppan, 
John Bayley, 

Sam Pore, 
Edw. Richardson, 
Robere Coker, 
Richard Fits, 



John Cheney, Jun., 


John \Vilcutt, 

Kobt Adams, 

Lanslet Granger, 


Anthony Short, 

John Knight, 



Peter Toppan, 
Jeremy Gutiidge, 



Thomas Hale, Jun., 

John Poore, Senor. 

Stephen Swett, 
Anthony Morse, sen., 

Richard Loell, 
Anhony Sumerbee, 
John Mearell, 

Abell Huse, 
John Cheney, sen'r, 
James Jackraan, 
Joseph Pluraer 
John Parker, Senior, 
John Jun., 

Thomas Brown, 
William Titcomb, 
Richard Bartlet, 
Wilum Morse, 
Josif Tainey, 

2, 3, 63. The Magts have consid- 
ered the grounds of this Petr ; & con- 
sent not to any reversion of the coun. 
Court's sentence. 

Consented to by ye depety provided 
they may have ye ten shillings agayne. 

The Magists Consentyes, 

ED^ : RAWSON, Secry." 

This ancient document being much 
worn, some of the names are in part, 
or wholly illegible. 

In 1669, the ecclesiastical difficulties 
by which the town had been for some 
time agitated, arose to such a height, 
that an appeal to the civil authority 
was considered necessary. The cause 
of this disturbance was a change of 
sentiment, which Messrs. Parker and 
Noyes manifested respecting church 
government and discipline. 

Johnson, in his "Wonder-working 
Providence " says : "The teaching eld- 
ers of Newbury have carried it very 
lovingly toward their people, permit- 
ting them to assist in admitting of per- 
sons into the church society, and in 
church censure, so long as they act reg- 
ularly, but in case of maladministration 
the}- assume the power wholly to them- 

Johnson very well expi'essed the 
principles of church discipline held by 
Messrs. Parker and Noyes, principles 
which engendered a controversy that 
was not settled until a short time prior 
to Mr. Parker's death in 1677. A ma- 
jority of the church demanded as a 
right, what the pastor and teacher 
"lovingly permitted" as a favor, and 
believing that the church in its corpo- 
rate capacity had a right, and therefore 
were under a sacred obligation to man- 
age its own affairs, they contended 
most strenuously against their elders 
assuming the powers wholly to them- 

October 22d, 1656, "Mr. Noise, the 
blessed light of Newbury, died." Of 
his uncle, the Rev. Nicholas Noyes thus 
writes : ' ' The}' who differed from him 
in smaller matters as to discipline, held 
a most amicable correspondence with 
hun." During Mr. Noyes' lifetime, 
there was no serious difficulty in the 
church. After the return of Mr. John 
Woodbridge from England in 1663, he 
was employed by the town to assist his 
uncle Parker in preaching, at a salary 
of sixty pounds per annum, until 1670, 
when the town agreed to dispense with 
his services. From 1665 to 1669, the 
church and town were in a most excited 
and uncouciliatory state, being about 
equally divided, one part}' adhering to 
Mr. Parker, while the opposition were 
led by Mr. Edward Woodman, a man 
of talents, influence, firmness, and de- 
cision, and from him were styled Mr. 
Woodman's party. This gentleman af- 
firmed ' ' that Mr. Parker would set up 
a prelacy, and have more power than 
the pope, for the pope had his council 
of cardinals." Both John Emery, sen., 
and his son, John Emery, jr., joined 
Mr. Woodman's party. The following 



is extracted from the records of the 
court at Salem : 

"I, John Pike, do testifie that I was 
present at the gathering of the church 
at Newbuiy, and I did hear our rever- 
and pastor preach a sermon on the 
eighteenth of Matthevt, seventeenth 
verse, 'and if he neglect to hear them, 
tell it unto the church ; but if he neg- 
lect to hear the church, let him be unto 
thee as an heathen man and a publican,' 
wherein he did hould forth that the 
power of discipline belonged to the 
whole church, yt the matter of the 
church ought to be visible saints jo} - ned 
or gathered together, that the manner 
of their joj'ning together ought to be 
by covenant, yt the end of it is for the 
exercisingo and enjoyinge of the ordin- 
ances of Christ togeather. He strongly 
proved his doctrine by many places of 
the Scripture, both in the old and new 
testament. The which sermon togeath- 
er with the Scriptures did much instruct 
and confirme us in that waye of church 
discipline which as I understood he 
then preached for, namely the congre- 
gational wave, some noates of the said 
sermon, which I then took from his 
mouth, I have here ready to shew if 
you please. The sermon being ended 
the brethren joyned together by express 
covenant, and being joyned they chose 
their pastor Mr. Parker, who accepted 
the call, and joyned with them accord- 
ing to the covenant aforesaid ; and 
those that afterward jo3"ncd to the 
church, consented to the said covenant 
explicit. The brethren of the church 
acted in these admissions of ye members, 
expressing^ their voats therein b}^ lift- 
ing up the hande, and soe continued 
together lovingly a considerable num- 
ber of yeares untill other doctrine be- 
gan to be preached amongst us. 

Per me, JOHN PIKE. 

Sworne in court 30 March, 1669." 

"Robert Pike also testifies that the 
meeting was on the Sabbath in the 
open air under a tree." 

"At the same time that Mr. Parker 
was chosen pastor, Mr. James Noyes 
was chosen teacher." 

Similar testimonies were give by John 
Emery and Thomas Browne. 

Tradition asserts that the tree under 
which this first sermon was preached 
was a majestic oak, which stood on the 
north bank of the river Parker, about 
a hundred yards below the present 

After a series of trials and appeals, 
and a council of the neighboring elders 
and churches, which was convened 
Nov. 3d, 1669, the controversy was fi- 
nally settled at the court at Ipswich, 
May 29th, 1671, "which adjudged the 
said Mr. Woodman, and part}' adhering 
to him, to pay the several fines under- 
written, with the charge of the witnes- 
ses, and fees of court, and that the}' all 
stand committed till the said fines, 
charges and fees be satisfied and paid. 

Mr. Edward Woodman, twenty no- 
bles ; Mr. Richard Dummer, Richard 
Thorlay, Stephen Greenleaf, Richard 
Bartlet, and William Titcomb, four no- 
bles each ; Francis Plumer, John Em- 
ery, sen., John Emery, jun., John 
Merrill, and Thomas, Browne, a mark 
each ; Nicholas Batt, Anthony Morse, 
senior, Abraham Toppan, William Saw- 
}-er, Edward Woodman, junior, John 
Webster, John Bartlet, senior, John 
Bartlett, junior, Joseph Plumer, Ed- 
ward Richardson, Thomas Hale, junior, 
Edmund Moores, Benjamin Lowle, Job 
Pilsbury, John Wells, William Ilsley, 
James Ordwaj 7 , Francis Thorla}', Abra- 
ham Merrill, John Bailej-, Benjamin 
Rolfe, Steven Swett, and Samuel Plum- 
er, a noble each ; Robert Coker. and 
William Moody were not fined." 

A noble is six shillings and eight- 
pence ; a mark, thirteen shillings and 

The following are the names of Mr. 
Parker's party : 



Mr. John Woodbridge, Capt. Paul 
White, Mr. Henry Sewall, Richard 
Kent, John Kent, Henry Short, Daniel 
Price, senior, Richard Knight, John 
Kelley, John Knight, Henry Jaques, 
Thomas Hale, senior, Robert Adams, 
Abel Huse, George Little, Samuel 
Moody. William Chandler, Mr. Nicho- 
las No}-es, Nicholas Wallington, Capt. 
William Gerrish, Mr. Percival Lowle, 
James Kent, Robert Long, Richard 
Pettingell, William Morse, John Davis, 
John Smith, James Smith, James Jack- 
man, Joseph Muzzey, Richard Dole, 
Anthony Somerby, Nathaniel Clark. 
Tristram Coffin, Nicholas N 03-68, senior, 
Thomas Tarvill, Mr. John Gerrish. 

Though during this controversy, 
George Little adhered to his pastor, in 
company with Philip Squire, Nathaniel 
Cheney, William Sa}-er and wife, Ben- 
jamin Morse and wife, Mr. Edward 
Woodman and wife, John Saver and 
Abel Merrill, he joined the Baptist 
church at Boston, and in 1682 that 
church assented to the formation of a 
Baptist church in Newbury. This 
church never gained many converts, 
and it was too few in numbers to long 
maintain a separate existence. 

In 1654, "John Emery was chosen 
to answer at the next court at Ipswich, 
concerning the presentment about the 
way to Andover." 

April 10, 1644. "There was laid out 
to John Emer}-, jun., four-score akers 
of upland, bee it more or lesse joining 
unto Merrimacke river on the north, 
and running from the mouth of Arti- 
choke river, unto a marked tree by a 
swampe on the north-west corner, being 
about one hundred and thirty-two rods 
long at the head of the cove, thence 
about a hundred rods to the south- 
east corner, thence running a strait 

lyne about a hundred and fifty-six 
rods to Artichoke river on the east 
about eighty rods broad." 

March 3. 1679, the town granted to 
Sergeant John Emery twelve acres of 
land on the west side of Artichoke riv- 
er, "provided he build and maintain.* 
corn mill, to grind the town's corn from 
time to time, and to build it within one 
}-ear and a half after the date hereof," 
and so forth. This farm is still owned 
by the descendants of John Emery, jr. 
John Emery, senior, passed the latter 
part of his life there ; he died Nov. 3, 
1683, aged 85. 

A portion of the estate of David 
Emery, above, on the main road, is 
still in the possession of his descend- 
ants, and there is a wood lot owned 
in my family which was purchased with 
money inherited from that ancestor. 

Jonathan Emery, the j-oungest son 
of John Emery, senior, fought through 
King Philip's war, with the renowned 
"Flower of Essex." He belonged to 
Major Appleton's company, which was 
considered the ci'ack company of the 
Small arm}-. In the archives at the 
state-house, Boston, is the original mus- 
ter-roll of the compan}-, and it is there 
recorded: " Jonathan Emery, wounded 
in the neck." This wound, from an 
Indian arrow, was received at the cap- 
ture of the fort in Narraganset, Dec. 
19, 1675. 

This was a terrible battle, the most 
sanguinary of the campaign. The In- 
dians had built a fort in the Narragau- 
set country. Within a strong palisade 
of timber were nearly five hundred wig- 
wams, sheltering nearly five thousand 
persons, with great store of provisions. 
The cold was intense, and the air filled 
with a frosty rime, as our brave little 
army drew near to the great swamp. 



Around the fated hamlet, outside the 
palisade, was a high barricade of felled 
trees, almost or quite impossible to 
climb, and a nearly impenetrable thick- 
et of swamp wood ; surrounding these 
defences was a broad moat filled with 
water, which could only be crossed by 
passing over a large tree placed by the 
Indians for a bridge. At about one 
o'clock p. m. our bold men began the 
attack. Though they were obliged to 
pass over that tree trunk single file, in 
the face of a terrible fire from the ene- 
my, which sent man}- a man instantly 
to his death, they persisted, again and 
again. Six of our captains were killed 
and a proportionate number of men, 
before a few of the brave soldiers ef- 
fected an entrance into the five- acre 
enclosure of the Indians. Here the 
slaughter was hand to hand, with horri- 
ble odds against the invaders. Never- 
the-less, the}- won the day. The cry 
that the Indians were flying rallied our 
men outside, who had recoiled some- 
what from the death-line of the tree. 
The Indians were left dead in heaps 
" upon ye snow." The wigwams were 
soon in flames, and several hundred of 
the hapless children of the forest per- 
ished in the fire ; other hundreds 
were taken prisoners, while the great 
Philip barely escaped. Our army lost 
about eighty killed and nearly one hun- 
dred and fifty wounded. The total loss 
of the Indians was computed at about 
a thousand. After this fearful combat 
our people marched seventeen or eigh- 
teen miles " in a most horrid and bois- 
terous night," before the wounded 
could be cared for. Several of our 
dead were left in the burning ruins of 
the fort. The sufferings " of the Eng- 
lish after this fight have hardly a paral- 
lel in history." What, then, must have 

been the sufferings of the Indians? 
The English lions won their victory, at 
great cost of pain and blood, over the 
Indian tigers. 

Jonathan Emery after 
his return from the war 
used this seal, which he 
probably had engraved 
to commemorate his 
deeds and sufferings. The Lion repre- 
senting the bold Briton inspiring terror, 
the arrow seized by the rampant beast, 
the emblem of Indian warfare, which 
from its position indicates the Lion's 
victory, The decendants of John jr. 
and Jonathan Emery have become 
widely scattered, Many have been, 
and are still counted amongst the prom- 
inent men and women of the country. 
The name has been, and still is, well 
represented, amongst the clergy, at the 
bar, in the medical profession, in the 
military, literary and mercantile walks 
of life. Some of the family have ex- 
celled in mechanics, and in an unusual 
degree as a race, the} 1 possess the tal- 
ent of a "ready writer." 

The spirit of emigration decended 
from the sires. Several of the family 
pressing into the wilderness, founded, 
what are now flourishing towns. Mo- 
ses Emery, a great grandson of John 
Emery jr. was the first settler at Minot, 
Maine. Edward Emery, seventh son 
of Jonathan Emery, married a Miss 
Sarah Sibley and settled at Contoocook 
(now Boscawen, N. H,) in 1734 or 
thereabouts. In 1740 he was one of a 
committee there to secure a minister 
for the plantation. He was killed by 
the Indians while hunting beaver at 
Newfound Lake, in 1756. Ezekiel 
Flanders his companion was also slain 
by the savages. Anthony Emery, third 
son of John and Hannah Emery, grad- 



uated from Harvard College in 1736. 
He was surgeon in the English arm}' at 
the capture of Louisburg. and was the 
first physician at Chelmsford, Mass., 
then at Hampton N. H., where he died, 
Aug. 19th, 1781, aged 67. Dr. Emery 

O ' O 

was one of the proprietors of Andover 
N. H., which for some time bore the 
designation of "Emery Town." His 
son William settled on his father's land, 
being the third settler in the town. His 
son, Captain Anthoiry Emery succeeded 
on the paternal acres, where he was 
distinguished as a sheep-grower. He 
kept more sheep, sold more mutton, and 
procured the manufacture of more of 
the old-fashioned coverlets, than any 
three men in his count}'. 

Rev. Samuel Emery, born in New- 
bury Dec. 20th, 1670, graduated at 
Harvard in 1691, and was ordained in 
Wells, Me., the 29th of October 1701, 
he died Dec. 18th, 1724. 

Rev. Stephen Emery was born in 
Newbury, graduated at Harvard in 
1730 ; was soon after settled over the 
societ} T in Nottingham, N. H. 

Thomas Emery, son of David Emery, 
sen., graduated at Harvard in 1768, 
and studied medicine ; he died Nov. 
21st, 1772. aged 22, leaving one son, 
Thomas Emen*, who married first a 
daughter of the Rev. Moses Hale of 
the lower parish, by whom he had three 
sons, Flavius, Charles and Moses ; 
his second wife was Margaret, widow of 
Joseph Coflin, of Old town. 

Rev. Samuel M. Emery, son of 
Moody and Abigail Emery, of New- 
bury, now r West Newbury, born April 
10th, 1804, graduated at Harvard in 
1830, received the Master's degree at 
Trinity college ; Hartford, Conn., and 
several years after the honorary degree 
of D. D., from the same. He was or- 

dained Deacon in Trinity church, Bos- 
ton, in July, 1835, and soon afterwards 
receiven a call to Trinity church, Port- 
land, Conn., w r here he was ordahfed 
priest. He remained rector of that 
parish until August, 1870, nearly 
thirt}'-five 3'ears. Since then he has 
retired from the active duties of the 
ministry. He married Mary Hale, only 
child of Eliphalet Emery, Esq. of the 
Artichoke river farm, and grand- 
daughter of the Rev. Moses Hale. 

Rev. Samuel Hopkins Emery, bom 
Aug. 22d, 1815 ; graduated at Amherst 
in 1834 ; at Andover Theological Sem- 
inar}- in 1837 ; was ordained at Taun- 
ton, Mass., Nov. 23d, 1837 ; pastor at 
Quincy, 111., and Bedford, Mass. ; 
stated supply at Chicago. Providence, 
Bridgeport, Ct., and North Middle- 
borough, Mass. ; now city missionary, 
and minister of Cedar .street chapel, 
Taunton, Mass. ; married, March 7th, 
1838, Julia Reed of Taunton. 

Rev. Joshua Emery, born in New- 
buryport Aug. 1807, graduated at Am- 
herst in 1831 ; at Andover Theological 
Seminary in 1834 ; was ordained pastor 
of Calvanistic Congregational Church, 
Fitchburg Mass., May 13th 1835; was 
called to First Church (old North) Wey- 
inouth, Mass., Dec. 1837. and insl ail- 
ed pastor Jan. 25th, 1838 ; retired from 
active service in 1873. He marred 
May 19th, J835, Hariet, daughter of 
Jacob Peabody, of Salem. Mass. 

Horace Brown, son of Hayden and 
Hariet (Emery) Brown, and grandson of 
Moses Emery, born in West Newbury 
Aug. 31st, 1851, was fitted for college 
at Phillip's Academy, Exeter and grad- 
uated at Harvard in 1.S72, and the 
Harvard Law School, in 1874. He 
began the practice of his profession in 
the office of Ives & Lincoln, Salem, 


Mass., July 7th, 1874 ; was admitted to 
the United States Supreme Court Jan. 
1878 ; was elected to the State Legis- 
lature, to represent the city of Salem, 
Nov. 5th, 1878 ; is a member of the 
Essex Institute, and of the American 
Association for the Advancement of 

Samuel E. Emery D. D. S;, son of 
Rev. Samuel M. Emery, D. D., was 
born at Portland, Conn., April 10th 
1852. Graduated at the Boston Den- 
tal College 1876. A practising dentist 
in Newburyport. 

Flavius Emery, son of Thomas and 
Elizabeth (Hale)Elmery, married Eliz- 
abeth Emery, daughter of 3 foody and 
Abigail Emery, of West Newbmy, 
Nov. 1 1826. Their son, Rufus Emery, 
born July 25th, 1827 ; graduated at 
Trinity college, Hartford, Conn., in 

1854 ; was tutor in the Institution from 

1855 to 1857. He graduated at the 
Berkley Divinity school in Middle town, 
Conn., in 1858; took charge of the 
church in Southport, Conn., where, 
Aug. 5th, he was ordained priest, re- 
maining over the society about twelve 
vears. lie married Adelaide, daughter 
of Erastus and Mary W. Brainerd, of 
Portland.' Conn., Nov. 17th, 1858. 
Having resigned the parish of Trinity 
church, Southport, he officiated some 
two years in Calvary Church, Stoning- 
ton, Conn., when he accepted a call to 
the rectorship of St. Paul's Church 
Newburg, N. Y. 

Emery is both an ancient and an 
historic name. In the "Doom's Day 
Book," 1086, those of the Norman 
French family D'Amery, who fol- 
lowed the Conqueror to England, are 
recorded as landed proprietors in Ox- 
ford and Devon, in the mediaeval Latin 
as Haimericus. At present the Emery s 


x-\N usua 

VN \ ery, 

of England, as a rule, use the ortho- 
graphic form, most prevalent in the 
United States, though some as here, 
prefer Amery or Amory. From the 
old records, it is seen that the fh'st set- 
tlers here, as was then common, spelled 
the name in a variety of ways. John 
Emery of Romsey, in old age, spelled 
his name Emerry, but his will, now on 
file among the Essex county, Massa- 
chusetts court papers, exhibits his sig- 
nature as John Emry. The name is 
\ not rare in France ; there its 
usual forms are Amory, Em- 
and D'Emery. The 
\"sj name d es not appear in 
France previous to the Nor- 
man invasion of Gaul. It 
Avas brought with the fierce 
followers of Rollo, gathered 
from Norway, Sweden, Den- 
mark, and some of the North 
German provinces, who in 
the early part of the tenth 
century invaded the beauti- 
ful land of Neustra, and 
wrested it from Charles the 
Simple, changing the name 

to Normandy. It has been claimed 
that the practice of giving "Sir" names 
originated in Normandy, and was 
transported to Great Britain at the 
time of the conquest. The name 
Emery, or its equivalent, however, 
appears in Europe as early as the 
fourth century, where it is found in 
Switzerland, Spain and Italy, and it is 
well known in German}-, Emmerich, 
an ancient fortified town of Germany, 
derived its name from Count Embric 
or Emeric. 

Anderson (Sir Names) Edinburgh, 
18(>5, sa3's, "From A mala rich (exalted 
ruler) Gothic has come descended in 
regular transformation, Amalric, Alma- 



ric, Amaurj', Aimery, Ermenrich, and 
Emerich, the English names Amoiy, 
Damery, Darner and Emeiy." 

Though of historic interest, it is not 
general!}- known that this western con- 
tinent, in a slightly modified form bears 
the name under notice. Columbus nev- 
er doubted that the lands he had dis- 
covered were parts of the East Indies 
or Asia ; but, after extended explora- 
tion, Americus Vespucius (or Amerigo 
Vespucci, as his name appears in Ital- 
ian) became assured that the}- were no 
other than a second or western conti- 
nent. His written accounts of the cli- 
mate, people and productions, obtained 
a corroboration of this idea among the 
inhabitants of the old world. The hon- 
or of having his name applied to the 
extent of the^mainland of South Amer- 
ica, by him visited and described, was 
not sought by the daring Florentine. 
The suggestion of his name came from 
Matthias Ringman, the poet, and a few 
friends, students at the College of St. 
Die in Lorraine, among the Vosges 
mountains, in a corner of France. In 
1507 they put forth a little work entitled 
" Cosmographiae Introduces," in which 
the suggestion was made that the New 
World should be named America, after 
a man, inasmuch as Europe and Asia 
had been named after women. The 
suggestion was adopted, and America 
finally became the name of the whole 
western continent. Thus was Ameri- 
cus Yespucius honored in the use of 
that part of his name which then had 
been known for more than ten centu- 

Dixon, in his " Sir Names," says : 

" Emmery (F) , Armanarciks (Go :) , 
' Most exalted or universal ruler.' The 
Gothic name became changed to Arma- 
narich, Ermanarich, Ermenrich, Em- 

menrich, etc. ; and from it were prob- 
ably derived the English Sir names, 
Emerich, Emery ke, and sometimes Em- 
eiy. The forename of the Italian Ves- 
pucci was also a corruption of the name 
of a king of the Goths in the fourth 

Americus is not properly a corrup- 
tion of the original Gothic, but rather 
its legitimate Latinized form. Another 
author (M. A. Lowe, Patronymica 
Britannica) writes : 

' ' From the personal name Emeric or 
Almericus, equivalent to the Italian 
Amerigo, Latinized Americus, whence 
the name of the great western conti- 
nent. It seems to have undergone the 
following changes : Emeric, Emery, 
Amery, Amary, Ammar}*, and, in the 
Domesday Book, Haimericus. It is 
asserted that the family of D' Amery 
came to England with the Conqueror, 
from Tours." 

The following statement appears in 
" English Sir-Names : their Source and 
Signification," by Charles W. Bailey, 
A. M., London, 1875 : 

" Emery, though now .utterly forgot- 
ten as a personal name, may be said to 
live only in our Sir names. It was 
once no unimportant sobriquet. Ame- 
ric, Almeric, Emeric, and Eimeric, seem 
to have been original spellings in Eng- 
land, and thus, at least, it is more like- 
ly to remind us that it is the same name 
to which, in the Italian form of Ameri- 
go, we owe the title of that vast ex- 
panse of Western territory which is so 
indissolubly connected with English in- 
dustry and English interests." 

While it is true that Emery is not 
now used as a personal or given name 
in England, it is frequently so used in 
the Eastern States of America. All 
things considei'ed, the name in question 
may fairly claim to rank amongst the 
most remarkable in the whole range of 
personal nomenclature. 



The arms of Amery, or Emery, are : 






Shatswell, Shotswell, Satchwell, or 
Satchell. John, Ipswich, 1633 ; died 
in 1647. His will was proved March 
30. It names wife Joanna, son Rich- 
ard, brother Theophilus, brother Cur- 
win, and sister Mar}' Webster, widow 
of John. The widow Mary (Shats- 
well) Webster, with her children, John, 
Thomas, Stephen, Israel, Nathan, Ma- 
ry, Hannah, Elizabeth, and Abigail, 
removed to Newbury about 1642. On 
October 29, 1650, she married John 
Emery. She died August 28, 1694. 
John Emery was very fond of his step- 
children, and the}- reciprocated the af- 
fection. Israel and Nathan, the one 
eighteen and the other fifteen years of 
age, with their mother, soon after her 
marriage, petitioned the General Court 
to consent to their choosing their fath- 
er-in-law, John Emery,' senior, and 
brother, John Emery, jr., as their 
guardians. All of the Websters were 


remembered in Mr. Emery's will, where 
they are styled "his dear children." 

Hannah Webster married Thomas Em- 
erson ; her daughter Hannah Emerson, 
married Thomas Dustan, and became 
the famous Indian slayer, to whose 
memory a monument has been erected 
in Haverhill. 


Thomas Colman, born in 1602, 
came from Marlboro, Wiltshire, Eng- 
land, to Newbury, in the party who 
landed with Messrs. Parker and No} T es. 
His first wife Susanna, died the 17th of 
Nov. 1650. The same year he re- 
moved to Hampton, and married Mary, 
widow of PMmund Johnson, July llth, 
1651, who died in Hampton Jan. 30th, 
1663. His third wife was Margery 
. After 1680 he moved to Nan- 

tucket, where he died in 1685, aged 83. 
His children were Benjamin, Joseph, 
Isaac, Joanna, John and Tobias. To- 
bias, the last child of his third wife, 
was the ancestor of the By field family. 
Deacon Benjamin Colman, born in 
1724, married first, Ann Brown, from 
the Brown's Spring Farm on the main 
road. This lady was a decendant of 
John Brown of Turkey Hill, whose 
dwelling was attacked b} 7 the Indians 
in 1695. Their children were John, 
Dudley, Thomas, Samuel, Benjamin, 
Moses, Caleb, William and Mary. 
Deacon Column's second wife, was 
widow Sarah Stickney, whom he mar- 
ried Oct. 27th, 1778. John, born 1774, 
married a Miss Danforth. This was 
the migratoiy couple I have mentioned. 
Dudley, born Aug. 13th, 1745, grad- 
uated at Harvard in 1765. He mar- 
ried Mary, daughter of John and 



Mary (Whipple) Jones, and established 
a tavern in Oldtown on the old Boston 
road. The house is still standing on 
High street, now styled the old Ilsley 
house. He was town clerk for Nc w- 
bury, and at the commencement of the 
Revolutionary war entered the army, 
where he attained the rank of colonel. 
Mrs. Column, a tall, dignified woman, 
possessing a superior education, and 
"much elegance of manner, during 
her husband's absence, conducted the 
public house with great success. Col. 
Colman removed to Boston, where for 
several j'ears he was landlord of the 
"Bunch of Grapes Tavern." His 
health failing he purchased a farm in 
Brookfield, N. H., where he died Nov. 
16th, 1797. 

The following items of Col. Col- 
man's military career are of interest. 
The first is taken from the order book 
of Col. Moses Little, the October suc- 
ceeding the battle of Long Island : 

Oct. 13th. 

It is Gen. Greene's orders that my 
Brigade move over the Ferry immedi- 
ately. The regiments to leave a care- 
ful officer & 12 men each to bring for- 
ward their baggage to King's Bridge, 
who is to take care that none of it be 
left behind or lost. When the Reg'ts 
are over the ferry, they will march to 
Mt. Washington & remain there till 
further orders. You will hurry the 
march as fast as possible, as they must 
cross the ferry this night. 

Jxo. NIXON, B. C. 

To Dudley Colman, A. B. M. 

EAST CHESTER, Oct. 16th. 
The several reg'ts in this Brigade 
are to draw 4 days provision & have it 
cooked immediately. The Q. M. will 
apply to the assistant Q. M. Gen'l for 
carriages to transport their provisions. 
Col. Varnum's Keg't to relieve Col. 
Nixon's at Frogg's Point this P. M. 

Oct. 16th. 

Sir : You are to order Col. Var- 
num's reg't to inarch immediately to 
Frogg's Neck to relieve Col. Ritzema's 
or Col. Malcom's reg't (which of the 
two you fin:! there not relieved) . You 
will get a pilot from Col. Nixon's reg't 
to direct them thither. 

Jxo. Nixox, B. C. 
To Dudley Colman, Brigade Major. 


Oct. 18th. 3 

Sir : You will have a working party 
of 300 men & officers ready to go to 
work as soon as the tools arrive, which 
I have sent for, & }'ou will see that suit- 
able guards are mounted by each regi- 

Jxo. NIXON, B. C. 
To D. Colman, B. Major. 

Subjoined is a copy of a letter from 
Col. Dudley Colman to Col. Moses 
Little, of Turkey Hill : 

Oct. 28th, 1777. 
Dear Sir : I have the pleasure, 
though late, to congratulate 3-011 on the 
surrender of Gen. Burgoyne and his 
army. Some of them doubtless you 
will have the pleasure of seeing before 
this reaches you. It ma.y I think be 
reckoned among the extraordinary 
events history furnishes us with to 
have 5000 and upwards of veteran, 
disciplined troops, besides followers of 
the army surrounded & their resources 
& retreat so cut off in the field, as to 
oblige them to surrender prisoners of 
war, without daring to come to further 
action, is au event I do not recollect 
to have met with in history, much less 
did I ever expect to see it in this war. 
I confess I could hardly believe it to be 
a reality when I saw it, the prospect 
was truly extremely pleasing to see 
our troops paraded in the best order, 
and to see them march as prisoners by 
after they had laid down their arms, 
who but a few days before had preten- 
ded to despise (although at the same 
time I believe they did not think so 
lightly of us as the}" pretended) afford- 



ed a most striking & agreeable pros- 
pect. I can but mention the good 
order observed by our troops on see- 
ing them march by, no laughing or 
marks of exultation were to be seen 
among them, nothing more than a 
manly joy appeared on the countenan- 
ces of our troops, which showed that 
the}* had fortitude of mind to bear 
prosperity without being too much 
elated, as well as to encounter the 
greatest hardships & dangers. It has 
likewise been observed to me by sev- 
eral of the British officers, that the}" 
did not expect to be received in so 
polite a manner, & that they never saw 
troops behave with more decency, or a 
better spirit on such an occasion. 

We have I think for the present re- 
stored peace in the northern quarter & 
although for a little time past viewed 
the evacuation of Ticonderoga as a 
misfortune, we may now see it has 
proved a means of destroying this ene- 

Gen. Clinton has of late made an 
attempt to come up the river & has de- 
stroyed several places in order to make 
a diversion in favor of Gen. Burgoyne, 
but he was too late. We expect orders 
to strike our tents every day, as we 
have been under marching orders these 
three days, & part of the army are 
gone. I know not where we are to 
march to, but suppose it to be down 
the river, when if we can get between 
the enemy & their ships, we shall en- 
deavor to convince them that they are 
not to proceed in the way they have 
done, of destroying the property of 
our fellow-countrymen. Please to give 
my best regards to Mr. Gray and fam- 
ily, & all friends, & I should be hap- 
py to have a line from you. 
I am, dear Sir, 

Your most obedient, 
humble servant, 

To Col. Moses Little, member of the 
House of Representatives. 

The following letter, dated Newbury, 
July 19th, 1792, was written by Dea. 
Benjamin Colman, soon after the death 

of his second wife, to his son, Col. 
Dudley Colman, in Boston. The latter 
part refers to Col. Colman' s having em- 
braced more liberal religious views 
than those in which he had been edu- 
cated. I omit an account of the sick- 
ness of Mrs. Colman ; after announc- 
ing her departure, Dea. Colman writes : 

"In the time of her sickness, as well 
as before, I used to put questions to 
her that I might know the state of her 
mind. She used always to entertain 
a hope that God had given her a gra- 
cious turn of mind, but she was press- 
ing after that full assurance of an in- 
terest in the favor of God, whereby she 
might be actually ready for the sum- 
mons of death & meet it with an 
holy confidence. I can't say that she 
did attain to that full assurance which 
she wished & longed for, but about 
three days before she died, which was 
the last time I could understand what 
she said, I ask'd her about the state 
of her mind, how it was as to her hopes 
& fears, and she answered me as near 
as I can repeat in the following words, 
viz : ' Mr. Colman, I am conscious to 
myself of many failings, infirmities and 
shortcomings, I have no righteousness 
of my own to plead for my justification 
before God, my only hppe of salvation 
is in the atoning blood, and righteous- 
ness of the great Redeemer, the Lord 
Jesus Christ.' Some other things she 
spake at the same time to the same 
purpose, after that conversation her 
speech failed, so that I could under- 
stand but little she said, though she 
continued near three days, I hope and 
trust she was sincere and sound in the 
faith, so that she is received to the 
mercy of eternal life thro' Jesus Christ 
our Lord. And now in my old age, 
God has a second time deprived me of 
a companion, my prayer is that God 
will grant me his quickening grace that 
I may double my diligence in prepar- 
ing to follow my deceased wives to that 
world of spirits to which we are all 
hastening. And now my dear child, 
what shall I say to you. You and I 



dailey see that death is the end of all 
men and women. :ind the wise man tells 
us the living will lay it to heart, i e, we 
should do so, & it' we are rational we 
shall do so. if we act wisely for our- 
selves we shall consider ourselves as we 
are, probationers for that iinal state of 
retribution & judgment after which 
there will be no change consider my 
dear child, you and I are near this 
change of states, by which unconceiva- 
ble happiness or unconceivable misery 
will take place on us. I beseech you 
to allow yourself a little time, if it be 
but a quarter of an hour in a day, to 
retire from compairy to your closet or 
chamber to look into the state of your 
immortal soul, and think with yourself 
if 3'ou had a large estate in prospect, 
even in this world, if you doubted as to 
your title to the same, if you feared 
you should lose all & be a beggar in 
misery & distress, how solicitous would 
you be to secure a good title to that es- 
tate which you could keep & enjo}' but 
for a short, limited time, but alas, 
what a faint similitude is this to set 
forth the favor of God, & an interest 
in Christ, and an interest in that king- 
dom, where you may enjoy all that 
heart can wish or tho't conceive, con- 
sider if you lose your soul, 'twill be an 
infinite loss, an irreparable loss, there- 
fore your all is at stake. I beseech 
you la}- to heart Christ's own words viz : 
what will it profit a man if he gain the 
whole world & lose his soul,' these are 
the words of him that is Wisdom itself 
& truth itself, they are the words of 
him that laid down his precious life a 
ransome for mankind sinners; that 
will be the final .Judge of all the world, 
both Angels & men, for God the father 
has constituted the Son, as God man. 
Mediator to that office, and has given 
assurance of it to ah 1 men in that he 
has raised him from the dead, declared 
him to be the son of God, with power 
by his resurrection. Set him at his 
own right hand, exalted him for this 
very purpose, to give repentance & re- 
mission of sins. This Jesus will be 
our Judge at the last day, inspiration 
tells us he will come in flaming fire to 

take vengeance on them that know not 
God. and that obey not the gospel of 
our Lord Jesus Christ, who shall be 
punished with everlasting destruction 
from the presence of the Lord & from 
the glory of his power. Dreadful 
words, and more dreadful day, when 
this exalted God man shall assume his 
throne, appear in his robes of majesty, 
to take vengeance on his enemies, on 
all contemners, & sliters of gospel sal- 
vation & mercy, which he has tendered 
to^ost, perishing sinners, in & through 
that precious blood of his, which he 
shed for the remission of our sins, how 
can we endure to hear that dreadful 
sentence, depart from me ye cursed, 
you have slited offered mercy, abused 
my patience, resisted & grieved my 
spirit, and now the door is shut. This 
my dear child, will ineviably be the 
doleful doom of all that set light by Je- 
sus Christ & neglect the great salva- 
tion, purchased by the blood of him 
that was God as well as man. But am 
I saying all this to an Infidel a Soci- 
nian who denies the Divinity of Jesus 
Christ, or to a Universalist. who hopes 
& expects that all men will be saved at 
last, tho' they have no gracious princi- 
ple wrought in them in this life of pro- 
bation & trial, or am I writing to a fa- 
talist that presumes on the decrees of 
God, and argues thus with himself: 
if I am elected J shall be saved let me 
do as I will, and live as I list ; and if 
I am not elected, 'tis impossible for me 
to be saved, let me do all that I can in 
a way of means, and take ever so much 
pains for the salvation of nry soul, be- 
cause God's eternal decrees stand against 
me. These pernicious tenets, and a 
thousand more artfices the malicious 
Adversary of our precious souls sug- 
gests to us to wheedle us along by his 
artful devices, till the summons of death 
arrests us and then he will be sure of 
us. O. my dear child, resist and shun 
his devices, flee to Christ by faith now 
while the door of mercy & hope are yet 
open, make God in Christ your refuge, 
& believe God's word, whatever his se- 
cret decrees are (which you can not 
know at your pleasure), his word & 



promises are plain, viz, If you believe 
ou the Lord Jesus Christ you shall be 
saved, and as a good means to convince 
you -of the perniciousness and falsity 
of Socinian he re 33-, I beseech you for 
3-0111- soul's sake, upon reading this let- 
ter, to set apart some time in secret, 
open 3'our bible, and read with prayer- 
ful attention, the fore part of the first 
chapter of St John's gospel, and beg 
God that you may know the truth of 
those words, viz, In the beginning was 
the word, and the word was with God, 
and the word was God*, &c., &c. I 
beseech 3-011 not to think 3-0111' conver- 
sion impossible, or that you cannot for- 
sake 3'our old companions & steer 
another course, these are Satan's devi- 
ces to hold 3'ou where 3'ou are, till he 
has made sure of 3-011 ; 1 pray the Lord 
to pluck 3-011 out of his snare, & con- 
found his devices, and set 3-011 at liber- 
ty, for although his malice is infinite, 
his power is limited, 3-011 are in God's 
hands & he can deliver & save 3-011. 
But if 3'ou are resolved to keep on & 
live in a careless neglect of the salva- 
tion of your immortal soul, if 3~ou still 
harden 3-0111' heart and refuse to come 
to Christ for life, I can 01113- tell you 
niy soul shall weep in secret places for 
you still, and that God will glorify his 
justice in 3-0111' eternal destruction. But 
how can 1 bear the tho't, that you my 
dear child should be the object of God's 
everlasting displeasure & wrath? Since 
it is the last time I expect to write to 
you, please to bear with me while I ex- 
postulate the case with 3-011. wh\' will 3-011 
die when life is to be had for the, taking? 
God is yet upon a throne of glorious 
grace, holding out the sceptre of his 
merc3" to 3-011, his voice is to 3-011, man, 
I call, &c., as I live saith the Lord. I 
have no pleasure in the death of him 
that dieth, but had rather he would turn 
and live, him that cometh to me I will 
in no wise cast out. But if 3*011 refuse 
to hearken to nay expostulations, pray 
my child hearken to Christ's expostula- 
tions. Oh that they had known in this 
their day, the things that belong to 
their peace, this God speaks to you my 
child, as I told 3-011 in my other letter, 

3-011 are welcome to Christ if Christ be 
welcome to 3-011, nothing does or can 
hinder 3-0111' salvation if you be willing 
to come to Christ for life, he sa3's, I 
will take away the heart of stone, and 
give 3'ou a heart of flesh, I will blot 
out all your transgressions, tho' 3-0111' 
sins are as scarlet or as crimson, tho' 
3'our sins were as many as the sauda, 
or as might3' as the mountains, tho' 
your sins were as numerous as the stars 
in the sl<y, the blood of Christ is suffi- 
cient to expiate all their guilt, and his 
spirit is able to purge awa3 r all the filth 
of them, and to sprinkle 3-0111' guihYy con- 
science with the blood which cleanses 
from all sin & he still sa3*s, whosoever 
will, let him come & take the water of 
life freeby, & him that cometh to me, I 
will in no wise cast out. God grant 
for his name's sake that 3*ou ma3' be 
made walling to accept his offered mer- 
cy, and be made a triumph of his sov- 
ereign grace, thro' Jesus Christ our 
Lord. Amen. So pi^-s 3-0111- loving 


Dea. Colman died in 1797. 

Rev. Henr3' Colman, son of Col. 
Dudle3-, a distinguished Unitarian cler- 
g3'inan, was first settled at Hingham, 
afterwards in Salem ; in his latter 3'ears 
he became noted as an agriculturist and 
an author. 

Thomas, born in 1751, the third sou 
of Deacon Benjamin Colman, graduat- 
ed at Harvard in the class of 1770, and 
was drowned at Newbuiy bar October 
28, 1784. 

Benjamin, born in 1752, married Ma- 
ry Chute. He owned a farm nearly- 
opposite the Congregational meeting- 
house in By field, and was also engaged 
in the shoe business. After his father's 
decease he succeeded him as deacon in 
the church. 

Moses, born in 1755, inherited the 
original farm of the first settler, Thom- 
as Colniau, which, from his father, Col. 



Jeremiah Col man, has descended to 
Moses Colman, esq., of Boston. Mr. 
Colman also carried on an extensive 
butchering business. His first wife 
was Dorothy Pearson, by whom he had 
one son, Jeremiah. His second wife 
was Bett}- (Little) Emery, who also 
had one son, Daniel Colman. 

Samuel, born in 1762, a graduate of 
Harvard, married Susanna, grand- 
daughter of Joseph Atkins, esq. He 
studied medicine, and entered into prac- 
tice in Augusta, Me. He afterwards 
returned to Newburyport, engaged in 
teaching, where he died in 181U, and 
was interred in St. Paul's churchyard. 

Caleb, born in 1762, married a MHS 
Burbauk, and purchased a farm in Han- 
over, N. H. 

William, born in 1768, for a time re- 
sided on the homestead, then removed 
to Boscawen, N. H., where he owned 
a farm and mill. His first wife was 
Susan Thurston. She was the mother 
of Daniel Thurston and Hannah (twins) 
Dorothy, Judith, Sumner, Lucy, Mary, 
and Bett}- who died in childhood. His 
second wife was the widow Temple ; 
she had three sons. Luiher, William 
and David Emery. After her death 
Mr. Colman married the widow Brown, 
daughter of Mr. Moses Pillsbury of 
Crane-neck hill. 

Maiy, the only daughter, born in 
1757, married Mr. Joseph Searle of 

Charles Harris, oldest son of Daniel 
Thurston and Nancy (Harris) Colman, 
born February 8, 1819 ; graduated at 
Bowdoln in 1843; October ID, 1844, 
married Deborah Dinsmore of Auburn. 
N. H. For many years Mr. Colman 
has resided at the West. 

Samuel, son of Samuel and Tamelia 
(Chandler) Colman, and grandson of 

Dr. Samuel Colman, born in 1832 ; 
studied art ; went abroad in 1860, 
studying in Paris and Spain ; was made 
a member of the National Academy 
in 1864 ; president of the American 
Water Color Society in 1866 : resigned 
in 1872 and went abroad spending 
some j'ears in the principal cities of 
Europe. He was married in 1862. 
The Colman arms are : 





The Hale family is of considerable 
antiquity, and of high respectability in 
England. Thomas Hale, of Codieote. 
in Hertfordshire, married Anne, daugh- 
ter of Edmund Mitchell, and had three 
sons, Richard, William and John. Rich- 
ard, the eldest son, purchased the es- 
tate of King's Walden in Hertford- 
shire, and died in 1620. His sou Wil- 
liam succeeded him, and died in Aug- 
ust. 1634. aged sixty-six. He left nine 
children : Richard, born in 1596 ; Wil- 
liam. 1597 ; Rowland, his heir ; George, 
born July 30, 1601; Alicia, in 1603; 
Wim-frida. in 1604 ; Thomas, in 1606 ; 
Anne, in 16Q; and Dionesia, March 
17, 1011. 

Thomas Hale, with his wife Tamosiu, 
came to Newbuiy in 1635, and located 



on the south side of the river Parker. 
He died December 21, 1682, aged 78. 
She died January 30, 1683. Children : 
Thomas, born 1633 ; John, born 1636 ; 
and Samuel. 

Thomas Hale, jr., married Mary 
Hutchinson of Danv.ers, May 26, 1657. 
He died October, 1688. Children: 
Thomas, born February, 1658; Mary, 
born July 15, 1660; Abigail, born 
April 8, 1662; Hannah, born Novem- 
ber 29, 1663; Lyclia, born April 17, 
1666; Elizabeth, born October 16, 
1668 ; Joseph, born February 20, 1671 ; 
Samuel, born June 6, 1674. 

Capt. Thomas Hale married Sarah, 
daughter of Ezekiel and Edna (IIol- 
stead) Northern! of Rowley, May 16, 
1682. Children: Thomas, born March 
9, 1683; Edna, born November 21, 
1684; Mary, born April 28, 1687; 
Kzekiel, born May 13, 1689 ; Nathan, 
born June 2, 1691 ; Sarah, born March 
9, 1693; Ebenezer, born April 21, 
1695 ; Daniel, born February 22, 1697 ; 
Hannah, born June 7, 1699 ; Joshua, 
born March 17, 1701. 

Ezekiel Hale purchased a farm in the 
west precinct, and married Ruth Moody 
of Pipestave hill. She died, leaving 
two daughters, Ruth, and Elizabeth 
who died in childhood. Mr. Hale next 
married Mary Sargent of Amesbury. 
She died, leaving a daughter Mary. 
His third wife was Sarah, daughter of 
Parson Balch of Bradford. She died, 
leaving a daughter Sarah. The fourth 
wife was Mary (Poor) Spoflbrd. She 
had one son, Ezekiel, and three daugh- 
ters ; one of these married Mr. But- 
trick, the second Mr. Hildreth, and the 
third Squire Farnum of Dracut. Ruth, 
the oldest daughter, married John, sec- 
ond son of Capt. Edmund Little, of 
Crane-neck hill. Mary, the second 

daughter, married Enoch, the third son 
of Capt. Edmund Little. Sarah, the 
third daughter, married Mr. Moses 
Pillsbury, of Crane-neck hill. From 
the son, P^zekiel, descended Joshua 
Hale, born in Dracut, August 27, 1777, 
who died in New Orleans, of }'ellow 
fever, August 29, 1817. He went to 
Worcester, where he was a clothier and 
builder of machine^, and was the first 
who built a wool-carding machine in 
New England. Rev. Christopher Sar- 
gent Hale, Brown University 1820, and 
Hon. Ezekiel James Madison Hale, 
Dartmouth 1835, now of Haverliill, 

Daniel, fifth son of Capt. Thomas 
Hale, married Judith Emery. He com- 
manded a company in Col. Samuel 
Waldo's Massachusetts regiment in the 
expedition against Louisburg in 1745, 
and was killed at the head of his com- 
pany, in the trenches before that forti- 
fication, May 21, 1745. His descend- 
ants are numerous in Essex county, 
Mass., and elsewhere. Among them 
are the late Francis Pickard Hale, Bow- 
doin 1845, of Charlestown, Mass., and 
Daniel Harris Hale, esq., of Rowley, 
president of the Rowley Historical 

Rev. Moses Hale, born July 10, 
1678; graduated at Harvard in 1699; 
ordained in Newbury, Byfield, October, 
1706 ; and died in January, 1743, aged 

Rev. Moses Hale, born in Newbury 
in 1703 ; graduated at Harvard in 1722 ; 
was ordained in Chester, N. H., Octo- 
ber 20, 1731, and dismissed June 4, 

Rev. Moses Hale, born January 18, 
1715 ; graduated at Harvard in 1734 ; 
settled in Newbury, west parish, Feb- 



ruary 20, 1752 ; and died January 15, 
1779, aged 64. 

Rev. Moses Hale, son of the preced- 
ing, born in Rowley, February 19, 1740 ; 
graduated at Harvard in 1771 ; was or- 
dained in Boxford, and died May 26, 

Nathan Hale, born in Newbury, 
March 1, 1720; graduated at Harvard 
in 1739, and died in Newbury. 

Samuel Hale, born in Newbury. Aug- 
ust 24, 1718 ; graduated at Harvard in 
1740. In 1745 he commanded a com- 
pany of provincials at Louisburg, and 
for more than thirt}' years was a dis- 
tinguished teacher of }-outh in Ports- 
mouth, N. H. He died July 10, 1807, 
aged 89. 

Thomas Hale of Newbury, Ma}- 25, 
1797, married Alice, the eldest daugh- 
ter of Col. Josiah Little. Children : 

Rev. Benjamin, D.D., born November 
23, 1797, graduated at Bowdoin Col- 
lege in 1818, studied theology at An- 
dover, was professor of chemistry and 
mineralogy at Dartmouth College, pres- 
ident of Hobart College, Geneva, N.Y.. 
for over tvventj- years, and the author 
of various educational works. He 
married, April 9, 1829, Mary Caroline 
King. Dr. Hale died July 15, 1863. 

Moses Little, born April 7, 1799. 
An eminent business man of Boston, 
deacon of the Bowdoin street church, 
and the occupant of man}' responsible 
positions. He married Maiy Lane, 
j-oungest daughter of the Rev. James 
Miltimore, first pastor of the Belleville 
church. He died June 22, 1874. 

Thomas, born October 13, 1800 ; 
married Caroline Charlotte Jordan Oct- 
ober 7, 1836. He died May 28, 1854. 

Sarah, born March 29, 1802 ; died 
April 9, 1834. 

Josiah Little, born December 9, 1803 ; 

entered the office of the Merchants In- 
surance Company, of Boston, at the 
age of eighteen, where his fidelity and 
courteous manners soon won him pro- 
motion. In 1825 he became secretary 
of the AYashington Marine Insurance 
Company, and in 1828, on the opening 
of a branch office, he went to New 
York as its manager. After a year of 
marked success in this position, he 
joined with the late AA r alter R. Jones in 
establishing the Atlantic Insurance 
Company of New York. To do this 
he had to * 150, 000 of the capital 
stock, and his Boston friends proved 
their confidence in his character and 
abilit} T l\y subscriptions to twice that 
amount. In this position he remained 
for twenty-five years, in which time the 
Atlantic became the leading marine in- 
surance company in the country. He 
was compelled, by continued ill health, 
to resign his office in 1854. In the 
resolutions of respect and regret then 
adopted, the trustees refer to the com- 
pany as established essentially through 
his active instrumentality, and as hav- 
ing under his administration enjo^ved a 
course of uninterrupted success. Mr. 
Halejheld with an intelligent and firm 
conviction the great doctrines of grace, 
but without bigotiy or sectarianism. 
The Bible was his constant companion, 
and doing good his constant delight. 
He died February 26, 1875. 

Edward, born November 8, 1805; 
married widow Elizabeth L. Brown Jan- 
uary 30, 1837. 

Mary, born Jury 5, 1807 ; died March 
13, 1859. 

Dr. Ebenezer, born April 28, 1809 ; 
graduated at Dartmouth in 1829 ; mar- 
ried Sarah Bannister June 13, 1844. 
He died August 2, 1847. 

Alice Little, born April 15, 1811 ; 



married, April 23, 1832, Rev. John 
Charles March, second pastor of the 
Belleville church, who died September 
26, 1846. 

Capt. Joshua, born December 14, 
1812 ; married S.ophia Cutler Tenney 
January 4, 1844. 

Alice, wife of Thomas Hale, died 
July 27, 1819. On September 17, 1822, 
Mr. Hale married Mary, fifth daughter 
of Col. Josiah Little. Their only child 
was James White, born September 8, 
1827, and died October 11, 1832. 

Mr. Thomas Hale died August 14, 
1836. Mary, widow of Thomas Hale, 
died January 26, 1871. 

Benjamin, oldest son of Dr. Benja- 
min Hale, born October 31, 1S27 ; 
graduated at Hobart College in 1848 ; 
October 29. 1855, he married Lucy 
Balch Hale, only daughter of Col. 
Ebenezer Hale. 

Thomas, the second son, born July 
11, 1834 ; graduated at Hobart College 
in 1853 ; vice-president of the Pacific 
Mutual Insurance Company, New York ; 
February 24, 1870, married Lucy F. 

Cyrus King, third son, born March 
17, 1838 ; graduated at Hobart College 
in 1858; May 9, 1866, married Alice 
Little, only child of Capt. Joshua Hale ; 
died June 6, 1874. 

Dr. Josiah, fourth son, born April 1, 
1841 ; graduated at Hobart College in 
I860 ; studied medicine at Harvard 
Medical School and in Europe ; April 
24, 1873, he married Annie Skinner 

Eben Thomas Hale, only son of Col. 
Ebenezer and Lucy (Balch) Hale, born 
May 9, 1842 ; graduated at Yale Col- 
lege in 1862. That year he enlisted in 
Forty-fifth Massachusetts regiment for 
nine months' service, under General 

Foster. Stationed at Newbern, N. C., 
the regiment did provost duty ; was in 
the engagement at Whitehall and 
Kingston, returning home in June, 
1863. Afterward he studied law at 
the Harvard Law School. His health 
becoming impaired, he went to South 
America in 1866, visiting Rio Janeiro 
and other places of interest. After 
his return he became a partner in the 
firm of Lowell & Brett, stationers, 
Boston, continuing in the business until 
his death, which took place September 
7, 1868. 

Moses Hoyt Hale, born May 24, 
1829 ; married C. Adeline Preston, 
of Danvers, January 29, 1852 ; repre- 
sented Salem in Massachusetts legisla- 
ture in 1868 and 1869. Since Febru- 
ary 14, 1870, a special agent of the 
United States treasury department. 
He died at his home in Danvers, in 

Albert Hale, born September 13,, 
1839 ; graduated at Harvard in 1861 ; 
principal of the high school in Fair- 
haven, Mass., from January, 1862, to 
April, 1864 ; principal of female high 
school at Newburyport, Mass., from 
May, 1864, to November, 1865; pri- 
vate tutor in Cambridge and Boston in 
1865 and 1866 ; teacher in the English 
high school, Boston, from 1866 ; since 
1875 a master in said school. August 
18, 1869, he married Katherine, daugh- 
ter of Albert and Katherine (Daven- 
port) Wood, of Newburyport. 

Frank A. Hale, born January 8, 
1854 ; received the degree of M. D. 
March 1, 1876, at the Boston Univer- 
sity School of Medicine. 



The arms of the Hales of King's 
Walclen, are : 


William Moody came from Ipswich, 
England, to Ipswich, America, in 1634, 
and to Newbury in 1635. His wife 
was Sarah. Children : Joshua, Caleb, 
William and Samuel. 

Caleb Mood}* married Sara Pierce, 
who died August 25, 1665. Children : 
Daniel and Sara. His second wife was 
Judith Bradbury. Children : Caleb, 
Thomas, Judith, (born September 23, 
1669, and died at Salisbury, January 
28, 1679), Joshua, William, Samuel, 
Maryland Judith. 

Joshua Mood}- married Mary Green- 
leaf in 1696. Children: Mary, born 
June 26, 1697; Elisabeth, December 
4, 1698 ; Joshua, born Nov. 11, 1700 ; 
Abigail, born September 30, 1703; 
and Judith, born October 26, 1705. 

Elisabeth, second daughter of Mr. 
Joshua Mood}", married my great-grand- 
father, Capt. James Smith, the first 
owner of the Crane-neck hill farm. 

Caleb Moody, married Ruth Morse, 
Dec. 9, 1690, and settled on a farm at 

Pipestave hill, now known as the 
Ridgway place. Their daughter Elisa- 
beth, married Mr. Ezekiel Hale, whose 
daughter Ruth, became the wife of 
John Little, of Crane-neck hill. 

William Moody, of Ipswich, Eng., 
settled on a farm in Oldtown, which is 
still retained by his descendants ; the 
son of Mr. X. Warren Moody, being 
the ninth generation born on the place. 

William Moody married Mehetabel 
Sewell, November, 1684, and settled 
on a farm in Byfield, where his descend- 
ants became prominent citizens. It 
was from one of these, Capt. Paul 
Moody, that the company which found- 
ed the first woolen factory in the state, 
purchased the water power at the falls 
of the river Parker. Perkins's cut 
nails were first manufactured in the 
mill house previously owned by Capt. 
Moody. By such surroundings his 
sons from youth, became initiated in 

Paul Moody, jr., and Steven Kent, 
manufactured the first broadcloth in the 
United States, at the factory in Byfield. 
Afterwards Mr. Moody was engaged 
on the mills at Waltham, then in com- 
pany with John Dummer. another By- 
field genius, and Kirk Boot ; he was 
prominent amongst the founders of the 
city of Lowell, ranking as the first ma- 
chinist in Xew England. 

Davjd Moody, a younger brother, 
superintended the construction of the 
Boston mill dam, and for several years 
was the surerintendent of the iron 
works there. 

The two oldest sons of Capt. Paul 
Moody, Xathan and Samuel, after 
graduating at Dartmouth college, with 
another son, Enoch, went to Hallo well, 
Maine, where Mr. Enoch Moody found- 
ed the Hailowell bank. Afterwards he 



returned to Massachusetts and became 
a resident of Newburyport, where he 

Rev. Joshua Mood}-, the oldest son 
of William, of England, born in 1632, 
graduated at Harvard in 1655 ; was or- 
dained at Portsmouth, N. H., 1671 ; 
was minister of the first church in Bos- 
ton, from May 23, 1684, till 1692, and 
died in Boston, July 4, 1697, in his 
65th }-ear. This divine was distinguish- 
ed for his vehement opposition to the 
witchcraft delusion, in which he stood 
nearly alone amongst the New England 
clergy, at the imminent risk of himself 
becoming a victim to the popular frenzy. 
Caleb, the second son of Mr. William 
Mood}-, represented Newbury in the 
General Court, where his plucky resist- 
ance to the t}Tant, Sir Edmund An- 
dross, caused him to be imprisoned for 

Rev. Joseph Moodj^ of York, the 
father of the renowned Master Moody 
of Dummer Academy, was known 
throughout the colony as "Handker- 
chief Moody," from his wearing, for 
many years, a handkerchief over his face 
in the pulpit, or in any public place. 
This monomania was induced bj r the 
idea that he was responsible for the 
death of an intimate friend ; to expiate 
his sin he veiled his face forevermorc 
from the sight of his fellow mortals. 
This pious maniac was a man of, supe- 
rior ability, which was manifested in 
various civil offices, including that of 
count}*- judge, which he 'held previous 
to entering the ministry. His son, 
Samuel Mood}', a graduate of Har- 
vard in 1 763, became the first preceptor 
of Dummer Academy, Master Moody 
was a stout, stalwart man, odd and ec- 
centric, but few teachers have been more 
revered and beloved by their pupils, 

amongst whom he lived to count with 
some of the most eminent men in the 
country. To dunces he showed as lit- 
tle sympathy or mercy as Master Chase. 
He was wont to mingle in the sports 
of his scholars, whom he encouraged 
to become good swimmers, for which 
exercise the vicinity of the river 
Parker gave ample opportunity. He 
also, to the horror of the Puritan com- 
munity, introduced dancing as a school 
exercise, a French dancing master be- 
ing hired to give the boys instruction. 
I think the dancing hall was in the loft 
of the school-room, in the gamble roof, 
which was well lighted by end windows, 
and dormer ones in front. This pro- 
ject, which no one but the omnipotent 
and favorite Master Moody could have 
carried out, caused a great commotion. 
Mrs. Daniel Chute, who had two sons 
in the school, wrote a long poem, com- 
mencing : 

"Ye sons of Byfield, now draw near; 

Leave worship for the dance ; 
Nor farther walk in wisdom's ways, 

But in the ways of France ;" 

and Dea. Benjamin Colman, as long 
an essay, in which he vehemently pro- 
tested against this innovation, holding 
forth in the strongest terms' its foolish 
frivolity, and the enormity of promis- 
cuous dancing in general. 

For thirty years Master Moody held 
undisputed sway over the academy ; 
then the infirmities of age became so 
evident that the appointment of a new 
teacher was deemed a necessary. To 
effect this it was expedient to obtain an 
act of incorporation, which gave the 
trustees greater control over the estab- 
lishment. It was a delicate and pain- 
ful task to ask the resignation of such 
a man as Master Moody, and he did 
not readily resign the sceptre he had so 



long wielded, but at length was induced 
to do so, on March 25, 1790. He lived 
until 1796, spending most of his time 
amongst his old pupils, at whose homes 
he ever met a cordial reception. He 
died at Exeter, N. H. The following 
is the epitaph on his tombstone, in the 
graveyard at York, Me. : 

" Integer vitw celerisque purus. 
Here lies the remains of SAMUEL MOODY, 
ESQ., Preceptor of Dummer Academy (the 
First Institution of the kind in Mass.). He 
left no child to mourn his sudden death (for 
he died a Bachelor), yet his numerous pupils 
in the U. S. will ever retain a lively sense of 
the Sociability, Industry, Integrity and Piety 
he possessed in an uncommon degree as well 
as the disinterested, zealous, faithful and use- 
ful manner he discharged the duties of the 
Academy for 30 years. He died at Exeter 
Dec. 17, act 70." 

Rev. Samuel Moody, born January 4, 
1675 ; graduated at Harvard in 1697 : 
was ordained in York. Maine, Decem- 
ber 20, 1700, and there died November 
13, 1747. Parson Moody was chap- 
lain in the arm}' at the reduction of 
Louisburg. So confident was he of 
the success of our troops that he took 
with him a hatchet to cut the images in 
the Catholic churches. 

Samuel Mood}*, born in 1700, com- 
manded the fort at Pemaquid. then Fort 
George ; was a physician in Brunswick, 
Me., where he died in 1758. 

Rev. John Moody, born in 1 705 ; 
graduated at Harvard in 1727 ; was or- 
dained in Newmarket November 25, 
1730, and died October 15, 1778, aged 
se vent}-- three. 

Rev. Amos Moody, born November 
20, 1739 ; graduated at Harvard 1759 ; 
was ordained in Pelham, N. H., Nov- 
20, 1765; dismissed in 1792, and died 
March 22, 1819, aged seventy-nine. 

Rev. Silas Moody, born April 28, 
1742; graduated at Harvard in 1761 ; 
was ordained in Arundel January 9, 
1771, and died in April, 1816. 

Stephen Moody, Harvard, 1790, was 
a lawyer in Gilmanton, N. H., where 
he died. 

The arms of Moodye (Ipswich. Co. 
Suffolk, Eng.) are: 


Richard, senior, and Stephen Kent, 
brothers, with their wives, came to Ips- 
wich in 1635, thence to "Newbury the 
same year, in the party of first settlers. 
with Messrs. Parker and Noyes. Ste- 
phen Kent went to Haverhill, thence to 
Woodbridge, N. J. His second wife, 
Ann. died in 1660. He then married 
Eleanor, widow of William Scadlock, 
May 9, 1662. Children: Elisabeth, 
Hannah, Steven, Rebecca and Mary. 

Richard Keht, senior, had three sons 
Richard, jr., and James, born in 
England, and John, born in Newbury 
a daughter, Rebecca, who married Sam- 
uel Scullard, then John Bishop ; Sarah, 
whom he left in England, and other 
daughters. Richard Kent, senior, 
maltster, was a large landholder ; his 



house and malthouse were at the foot 
of Kent street. 

Richard Kent, jr., and his brother 
James owned Kent's Island, and land 
in Oldtown extending to Oldtown hill. 

Richard Kent, jr. , married Jane 

who died June 26, 1674. He married 
his second wife, Mrs. Joanna David- 
son, Jan. 6, 1675. He died Nov. 25, 
1689, leaving no heirs. 

James Kent died Dec. 12, 1681, 
leaving one sou, John, who inherited 
the whole estate. He married Mary 
Hobbs Feb. 24, 1665. He made his 
will the first of Januaiy, 1712, in which 
he gave his dwelling-house, jbarn, shop, 
and two orchards, half of his island, 
household goods, a horse, etc., to his 
wife, Mary, for her use and comfort 
during life, and " to give, sell or dis- 
pose of as she shall think fit among 
her children and grandchildren at her 
decease or before as she ma} r have oc- 
casion. Also I give my said wife all 
money I shall have in possession at the 
time of my decease. To my son Rich- 
ard Kent, I do confirm the gift of my 
uncle Richard Kent, late of Newburj r , 
aforesaid, deceased, of eight score acres 
of land upon said island given by my 
said uncle to my said son, so as that he 
may enjoy the same. I do give him 
my said son the other half of sd. Island 
both meadow and upland & appurte- 
nances thereunto belonging, together 
with all my housing & orchards there- 
on, & all my common privileges & 
rights in all the common undivided 
lands for pastures where I have rights 
within the township of Newbury afore- 
sd & my wood lot, with all my right in 
the lands where the sd. wood lot is 
made, with all other of my estate both 
real and personal wheresoever & what- 
soever it may consist, excepting what 

is before given to my wife, & that 
which I do hereby give to the rest of 
of my children, on condition that he 
my sd. son Richard Kent do perform 
the trust 1 shall repose & commit unto 
him as my executor to this my last 

I give to my daughter Jane Smith, 
the wife of my son-in-law James Smith 
five pounds, together with what she has 
already received & has been given her: 

I give and bequeath to my son-in 
law Jacob Toppan four pounds, to be 
divided among the children of Sarah 
Toppan his late wife deceased. 

I give unto Sarah Thing, who was 
the wife of my son James Kent, late of 
Newbur}' aforesaid deceased, twemty 

I give unto Elizabeth Kent widow & 
Relict of my son James Kent of New- 
bury deceased twenty shillings. 

I do ratify and confirm my late con- 
veyance of my land in the upper com- 
mons made to my grandson James 
Smith jun, according to the tenor of 
the deed & on the condition thereof 
whereby I have conveyed the same to 

The bequest in the "upper com- 
mons," was the James Smith farm, on 
Crane-neck hill, West Newbury. As 
the house was built in 1707, James 
and Elizabeth (Moody) Smith had been 
in possession five years, when this will 
was written. 

Col. Richard Kent married first, Mrs. 
Sarah Greenleaf; second, Mrs. Han- 
nah Carter of Charlestown, whose moth- 
er was a daughter of Daniel Gookin, a 
preacher much valued in his day. Col. 
Kent by his will, entailed Kent's Island 
to his son Richard, and after his de- 
cease to his oldest son, and to the old- 
est male heir forever. He was a prom- 



inent and influential man in the town. 
His monument on the old burying hill 
bears the following inscription : 







Col. Kent's son, Richard, came into 
possession of the whole of Kent Island 
according to the entail, but the birth of 
twins, his first sons, Stephen and Jo- 
seph, on May 9, 1741, brought an un- 
expected difficulty, as the nurse could 
not or would not sa}* which was the 
first born. This question has never 
been decided, though a long and trouble- 
some lawsuit ensued, which at length 
was ended by an equal division of the 
property. I give a copy of the final 
decision by the court. 


In the j'ear of oue Lord One Thous- 
and Seven Hundred and Eighty Four, 
an act for apportioning and Establish- 
ing the Posession of the heirs at Law 
of Richard Kent, son of Richard Kent, 
late of Newbury deceast, to a certain 
Island called Kent's Island in Newbury 

Whereas the said Richard Kent the 
Father, by his last will and testament 
bearing date the sixth day of May. in the 
year of our Lord, One Thousand Seven 
Hundred and Fort}-, among other things, 
did devise that his son Richard above 
said, should have and enjoy the whole 
of the Island aforesaid during his nat- 
ural life, and after his decease his old- 
est Son should have and enjoy the 
same, as an estate tail to his. and the 
heirs male of his Body Forever. Which 
last will and testament was afterwards 
duly proved and approved and the 
said Richard the son, on the death of 
his father, entered into possession of 
the premises devised as aforesaid, and 
thereof died siezed, leaving issue Jo- 

seph Kent and Stephen Kent twin 
brothers, and Moses Kent, a }*oungcr 
brother, his sole heirs, and thereupon 
the sd. Joseph & Stephen entered into 
the possession thereof, and still hold 
the same, and by reason of some singu- 
lar, and extraordinary circumstances 
attending the birth of the said Joseph 
and Stephen, it remained uncertain 
which is the oldest son. although a suit 
at law, and the verdict of two juries, 
have been had to determine the ques- 
tion. By which uncertainty great diffi- 
culty and contention may further arise 
among the heirs of the said Richard to 
the utter ruin of the improvements, 
and cultivation of so valuable an 
an Island, and to the Disgust of divers 
others good citizens, from preventing 
of which :-*- 

Be it enacted by the Senate and 
House of Representatives, in General 
Court assembled, and by the authority 
of the same, that the Justices of the 
Supreme Court, on the application of 
the said Joseph. Stephen and Moses, 
or on the application of either of them, 
his or their heirs, shall cause partition 
of the said Island to be made, and by 
like Process as is provided for dividing 
of other Real Estate on application to 
the said Court : 

One third part of the said Island 
shall be set off to the said Joseph Kent 
or his heirs, one third to the said Ste- 
phen Kent or his heirs, one third to the 
said Moses Kent or his heirs." 

The island is now in possession of 
the heir of Stephen Kent, Joshua Xoyes 
Kent, he and his brother, John Kent, 
being the seventh in descent from Rich- 
ard Kent, jr., and Mr. Joshua N. Kent's 
sons, and grandson, are the eighth and 
ninth generations on the island, and 
tenth in descent from Richard Kent, 
sen. The Kents have been esteemed 
and influential citizens. In 1636, 
Richard Kent, sen. was chosen among 
the first "'seven men," to conduct the 
town's alf'airs. First called '-seven 
men," then "town's men," finally "se- 



lectmen." Stephen, the brother of 
Richard, sen., was one of the four, 
who with Mr. Edward Eawson "coritra- 
dicented" the order for moving the 
meeting-house from the lower green. 
In 1640 Richard Kent*, jr., "in ye 
name of nine others," petitioned the 
General Court, to grant that Newbury 
should hold the whole of Plum Island, 
"to relieve our pinching necessities." 
During the trouble in the church, the 
names of Richard, John and James 
Kent are among those adhering to Mr. 
Parker's part}'. In 1683, with ten oth- 
ers, Capt. John Kent petitioned that 
Newbury might be made a port of en- 
try as well as Salem. This Capt. Kent 
commanded the brig Merrimack, which 
was taken by pirates in Martha's Vine- 
yard sound, Aug. 22, 1669. In 1788, 
Richard and Abel Kent gave the loca- 
tion to the town of the lower part of 
Kent street ; a lane led thence through 
the Coker estate to High street, which 
was called Coker's lane. 

Amos Kent, graduate of Harvard, 
1795, was a lawyer in Chester, N. H. 

Moody Kent, graduate of Harvard, 
1801 , practiced law in Concord, N. H. 

The arms of Kent are : 




Joseph Atkins, born in 1680, came 
from Isle of Wight to Newbury, with his 
wife, and sons, William and Joseph, 
and William's wife, about 1728. Tra- 
dition asserts that he had been a lieu- 
tenant in the British navy, in the ser- 
vice of Queen Anne. Mrs. Atkins, 
whose maiden name was Strover, died 
soon after her arrival, and the widower 
married a second wife, Mary (Dudley) 
Wainright, widow of Francis Wain- 
right, daughter of Gov. Joseph Dud- 
le}", and sister of Katherine, wife of 
Lieut. -Gov. Dummer. Captain At- 
kins, as he was styled, built a house 
which is still standing on the lower side 
of Strong street. At its erection it 
was surrounded by extensive grounds 
reaching to High street, a garden hand- 
somely laid out stretched in front to the 
river, and a broad avenue shaded b}* 
trees led to the mansion. Capt. At- 
kins was prominent both in the town 
and church, being vestryman and war- 
den at Queen, Ann's chapel, and a war- 
den at St. Paul's. The erection of the 
church by the "water side," was first 
suggested b}~ him, and towards which 
he gave fifty pounds, and at the first 
sale of pews he headed the list by tak- 
ing four, his son William taking a fifth. 
In 1738, permission was granted Jo- 
seph Atkins, esq., and sixty-four oth- 
ers, to build a wharf at the foot of 
Queen, now Market street. His tomb 
in the St. Paul's church yard bears this 
inscription : 

"This stone is erected to the Memory of 
Joseph Atkins Esquire. One of the Found- 
ers and A Generous Benefactor of this 
Church. Formerly an Eminent Merchant in 
this Towne, and Highly Esteemed by those 
who knew him. He departed this life Jan. 
2d, 1773, Aged 92. 

And of Mrs. Mary Atkins : 

The Virtuous and amiable Relick of Jo- 
seph Atkins, Esq., And Daughter of His 
Excellency Joseph Dudley. She died No- 
vember 12th, 1774. Aged 82. 



Joseph and Mary Atkins had one 
son, Dudle}', born in 1731 ; he gradu- 
ated at Harvard in 1748. 

Prior to the decease of Col. Richard 
Kent, of Kent's Island. Col. Richard 
having entailed the estate to his oldest 
son, Richard, by his first wife, and to 
the oldest male heir forever, the family 
had removed to a residence owned by 
Col. Kent in Newburyport, where he 
died, and where his widow, formerly 
Hannah (Gookin) Carter, and her chil- 
dren, one son and two daughters by 
second marriage, continued to reside. 

Madam Kent was a superior woman, 
possessed of a sound understanding 
and great benevolence, and although a 
most sincere and pious Christian, her 
religion had nothing in it of austerity 
or bigotry. On winter evenings it was 
her custom to collect her children around 
her to read to them from some instruct- 
ive book, while she earnestly strove 
to imbue them thoroughly with the 
principles and precepts of the Bible. 

Madam Kent was a neighbor of Capt. 
Atkins. The society of this interest- 
ing family must have been most conge- 
nial to young Dudley Atkins ; on Ma}' 
4, 1752, he led to the Imnenial altar 
Miss Sarah Kent. Their children were 
Maiy Rapell, born August, 1753 ; Jo- 
seph, born April, 1755 ; Hannah, born 
April, 1957 ; Katherine, born Oct. 
1758; Dudley, born Sept., 1760: Re- 
becca, born March, 1767. 

Dudle} r Atkins was a prominent mer- 
chant and a leading citizen of the town, 
a warden and active member of St. 
Paul's church. 

Oct. 21, 1765, Newburyport held a 
town meeting to instruct their represen- 
tative. Dudley Atkins, esq.. "relating 
to his acting in the General Court," 
respecting the Stamp Act. These in- 

structions expressed the most loyal sen- 
timents toward the king, but the Stamp 
Act was esteemed a peculiar grievance, 
and he was directed to use his influence 
to his utmost ability "that the rights 
and privileges of the province may be 
preserved inviolate." A long list of 
resolutions ends with abhorrence of all 
seditious and mobbish insurrections, of 
all breaches of the peace, and "that you 
will readihy concur in any constitution- 
al measure that may be necessary to se- 
cure the public tranquillity." 

The troubles with England increased, 
but Dudley Atkins remained loyal to 
King George. On one occasion his 
house was surrounded b}~ a mob ; Mr. 
Atkins being indisposed, several gentle- 
men went to his assistance, but his 
wife, the courageous Sarah (Kent) At- 
kins quelled the infuriated populace. 
Contrary to the remonstrance of friends, 
she opened the door, and addressed 
the tkrong, telling them, "that her hus- 
band was ill in bed, might not live to 
see them again ; they had always re- 
spected him, and the}- ought not to mo- 
lest her and her small and helpless chil- 
dren." The evil spirit was laid. Prom- 
ises of security were given, and the mob 
retired with cheers for Madame Atkins. 
Dudley Atkins, esq., died Sept. 24, 
1761, aged 38 years. His widow went 
to Amesbury where -she resided for a 
time. Feeling the necessity of making 
some exertion towards the support of 
her young family, she determined to 
open a store on State street, Newjbury- 
port. This was in the building now occu- 
pied by Mrs. Altar. It was mid-winter 
when the removal took place, the furni- 
ture and the family, with the exception 
of Mrs. Atkins and a man-servant, had 
gone, when a violent snow storm so 
blocked the roads that it would be im- 



possible to travel by the usual mode of 
conveyance for some days. Unwilling 
to remain thus separated from her 
new home, where her presence was so 
imperatively demanded, infusing her 
spirit of enterprise, as was her wont, 
into those around her, she obtained the 
willing consent of her own man, and 
another belonging to the farm, to draw 
her to Newburyport on a hand-sled, 
which they accomplished without any 
great difficulty. Passing the house of 
a friend, where a large part}* were as- 
sembled at dinner, upon seeing her 
unique equipage they rushed out with 
ludicrous expressions of surprise and 
congratulation, while the contrast be- 
tween their situation and pursuits and 
hers were vividly striking. Friends in 
Boston supplied Madam Atkins with 
fine goods, the store prospered, and be- 
came the fashionable emporium of State 

Gov. Joseph Dudley married Rebec- 
ca Tyng. Their son, Edward, brother 
of Mrs. Joseph Atkins, left a large es- 
tate in Tyngsborough to his daughter, 
Mrs. Winslow. This lady, a childless 
widow, proposed to adopt .young Dud- 
ley Atkins, and make him her heir if 
he would add Tyng to his name. As 
there was the oldest son Joseph to 
transmit the name of Atkins, this offer 
was accepted, but Joseph Atkins, an 
enterprising ship-master, died unmar- 
ried. His vessel was wrecked on a re- 
turn voyage, in a winter storm, and the 
whole , crew perished. The body of 
Capt. Atkins, found frozen to the mast, 
was brought to the bereaved home for 
burial amongst his kindred in St. Paul's 
church yard. The stone erected to his 
memory bears this inscription : 

"Here are interred The Remains of CAPT. 
JOSEPH ATKINS, who (with his whole Ship's 

Company) perished by Shipwreck on Cape 
Cod, Feb. ye 8th, 1787. Aged 31 years. 

He that goeth on his way weeping & 
beareth good Seed shall doubtless come again 
with Joy brigning his Sheaves with him." 

Mary Rapell Atkins married George, 
son of George and Catherine (Gore) 
Searle, in 1779. This lady was named 
for a Wainright, daughter of Mrs. Jo- 
seph Atkins, who married Judge Ra- 
pell, an Englishmen, judge of the Su- 
perior court, and judge of the Admir- 
alty for these Provinces, in the time of 
George 2d. It is said he never had 
but one decision reversed during forty 

Hannah Atkins died Sept. 25, 1771, 
in the 15th year of her age. 

Katherine Atkins married Samuel 
Elliot of Boston ; she was the ancest- 
ress of Samuel Elliot, president of Har- 
vard Universnrv, and other distinguished 

Rebecca Atkins died June 23, 1842, 

In 1788, Dudley A. Tyng, esq., pur- 
chased the present Tyng estate on 
High street for his mother, to which she 
removed with her daughter Rebecca. 

Mrs. George Searle,' having become 
a widow with ten orphan children, took 
her mother's store on State street, which 
she kept until after the fire of 1811. 
Mrs. Margaret Curson of Curson's mill 
was her daughter. 

Dudley Atkins Tyug fitted for college 
at Dummer academy, graduated at Har- 
vard in 1781, and studied law with 
Judge Parsons in Newburyport. In 
1795, he was appointed by Adams, 
Collector of the district of Newbury- 
port. For some years he was Record- 
er of the Supreme Court of Massachu- 
setts ; during this period he resided in 
Cambridge, but Newburyport was his 
favorite abode, and most of his sum- 



mers were passed here. He first mar- 
ried Sarah, daughter of Stephen Higgin- 
son of Boston ; second, her sister Elis- 
abeth. Madam Sarah (Kent) Atkins 
died on the 16th of October, 1810, 
aged 81. In 1821, Squire Tyug bnilt 
the lower of the two Tyng houses for his 
sister Rebecca, and having remodelled 
and enlarged the other mansion, in the 
autumn of that year he returned to 
Newburyport, which was his permanent 
reisdeuce until his death on Aug. 1, 
1829, aged 69. Dudley A. Tyng, like 
his father and grand-father, was an ac- 
tive and beneficent member of St. Paul's 
church, filling the office of warden for 
some j'ears. He gave a silver paten 
for the communion service, which bears 
this inscription : 


In 1790, Hon. T. Dalton and D. A. 
Tyng, esq., were chosen lay delegates 
to a convention at Salem, to prepare 
an Ecclesiastical constitution for Mas- 
sachusetts, which was adopted Ivy St. 
Paul's church, Jan. 16, 1791 ; the same 
delegates with Hon. Jona. Jackson 
and Mr. Lewis Jenkins were a commit- 
tee to ratify the same at the next con- 
vention in Boston. 

Dudley A. and Sarah Tyng had eight 
children : Sarah, who married first, 
Charles Head ; second, Joseph Mar- 
quand. Susan C., married Edward A. 
Newton ; Dudley, who died in infan- 
cy ; a second Dudley, who took the 
name of Atkins. 

Dr. Dudley Tj-ng Atkins graduated 
at Harvard in 1816, and studied medi- 
cine. He married Ann, daughter of 
Judge Bowman of Wilksbarre, Pa. 
Eor a time was practising physician in 
Newburyport, afterwards went to the 
city of New York, where he died 
April 7, 1845. 

The Rev. Stephen Higginson Tyng, 
graduated at Harvard in 1817 ; was 
professor at Jefferson college, set- 
tled in Philadelphia, but for more 
than forty }-ears had been the distin- 
guished rector of St. George's Church, 
New York. He has now retired from 
the active duties of the ministiy. He 
married, first, Anna, daughter of Bish- 
op Griswold ; second, Susan, daughter 
of John Mitchell, of Philadelphia. 

Charles died June 20, 1879, aged 78. 
He was a successful ship master, and 
merchant ; was for many j'ears estab- 
lished at Havana, Island of Cuba, 
where he endeared hinself, by his 
hearty sj-mpathy, and benevolence, to 
his countrymen there. He married, 
first, Anna Selina Anold, who died 
July 5, 1831, aged 25 ; second, AnnaA., 
daughter of John H. Me Alpine, of 
New York. The McAlpines are of 
the oldest of the Highland Clans, dat- 
ing back to Kenneth McAlpine. Feb. 
6, in the year eight hundred and thir- 
ty six. 

Mary, married Robert Cross, esq. 
She died some years since. 

James, graduated at Bowdoiu in 
1827, studied for the ministry, for 
many }'ears was a rector in New York. 
He married Matilda Degan, and died 
April 6, 1879. 

George Tyng, graduated at Har- 
vard in 1822, and died April 2, 1823, 
aged 25. 

Many of my readers will remember 
the genial, and hospitable Mis,s Re- 
becca Atkins, aunt Becky, as she was 
usually styled, and her pleasant home. 
Her house, and that of Squire Tyng 
have been modernized, but most of the 
ancient heir- looms, that formely graced 
them, are still retained. Amongst 
these are fine portraits of Joseph At- 



kins, esq. and Mary Dudlev, his sec- 
ond wife, and a painting, representing 
the visit of Queen Ann and the Royal 
Family to the man of war, of which 
young Atkins was Lieutenant, a new 
vessel, then considered a model craft. 
This picture Capt. Atkins brought to 
America, and he held it in such esti- 
mation as to bequeath it in his will, as 
a special legacy to be transmitted from 
his son, and son's son, through the 

Capt. Joseph Atkins, the second son 
of Joseph Atkins, esq., died a bachelor, 
Feb. 6, 1782, aged 76. 

Williajn Atkins, esq., the oldest son, 
was a prominent merchant and citizen, 
and an active member and warden of 
St. Paul's church. His name stands 
first on the list of two hundred and six 
of the "water side" people who signed 
the petition to be "set off from New- 
biuy, and incorporated as a town by 
themselves," and, in direct contradis- 
tinction to his half-brother, Dudley, 
was an active Whig, and enthusiastic 
Revolutionist, being one of the Com- 
mittee of Safety and Correspondence 
appointed by the town on the 23d of 
September, 1774. Before leaving Eng- 
land, he had married Abigail Beck, by 
whom he had one son and four daugh- 
ters. He built a house near where 
the present custom house now stands, 
a handsome Colonial mansion, with 
wainscotted rooms, deep window seats, 
broad stone hearths, and fire-places 
decorated with Dutch tiles depicting 
Scripture scenes. At his death this 
house was purchased by the father of 
Captains John and Benjamin Harrod ; 
there they and their sisters were born. 
It Avas burned in the great fire of 1811, 
then known as the Harrod house. The 
Atkins family and their widowed sister, 

Mrs. Dr. Samuel Colman, and her 
children, at that time resided opposite ; 
their house was also burned. 

William Atkins, esq., died Aug. 27, 
1788, aged 77. 

Mrs. Abigail Atkins died Dec. 5, 
1786, aged 68. 

Miss Mary Atkins died Aug. 31, 
1802, aged 64. 

Hannah C. Atkins died June 6, 1811, 
aged 57. 

Elisabeth Atkins died July 30, 1838, 
aged 88. 

Susanna (Atkins) Colman died in 
Salem, July 9, 1827, aged 65. 

William Atkins, the only son, was 
lost at sea. 

The Atkins arms are : 





Dudley and Tyng per pale. Dud- 
ley Or, lion rampant. Tyng Ar- 
gent, on a chevron sable three martlets 
proper. Crest a martlet. 

Motto "Esse quam videri." 


At the trying period of the Revolu- 
tion, Newbury and Newburyport dis- 
played great heroism. At the first in- 
telligence of the battle of Lexington, 
four companies immediately marched to 
the scene of action. Those from New- 
bury were commanded by Colonel 
Samuel Gerrish and Colonel Moses 
Little. The Newbuiyport companies 
were led by Capt. Ezra Lunt and 
Colonel Benjamin Perkins. On a 
stormy day, as we sat at our work, 
grandmother, aunt Sarah and mother 
often recalled those stirring times, and 
of a winter's evening my father and 
other friends frequently talked over the 
events of the war. My father was an 
excellent singer, and he was often in- 
vited to sing the songs that had then 

been popular. Two of these "The 
Vision" and ' Burgoyne's Lamenta- 
tion," I will note ; would that I could 
give the voice, expression, and enthus- 
iasm of the singer. 

"I was an oU fanner, 

Was born in the woods, 
Of late had a vision 

From one of the gods. 

"Last Saturday night, 
As I slept on my bed, 
The following dream 
Came into my head : 

"I thought I was towering 

Aloft in the air, 
Then rambled to Boston 

To see what was there. 

"First viewing the troops, 
Which were tired of intrenching, 

Then going to see Tom, 

Who was giddy with drinking. 

"For of wine, gin and ale 

So freely he drank, 
That he was'^scarce able 

To visit his rank. 

"His friends were all round him, 

And if you think fitting, 
I'll tell you the posture 

The club was now sitting. 

"There were Tim, Dick and Will, 

And several more ; 
I thought in the whole, 

They would make nigh a score. 

"Set round a large table, 

But all at a pause, 
To think of a plan 
To enforce these new laws. 

"I wondered at this, 

And asking old Beetle, 
For knowing the villain 

Was apt for to tattle ; 

"He honestly told me 

What was the reason, 
. The Devil, says he, 

Has gone for a season, 

"To help his fiiend N"orth 
Project a new plan, 



And when this is done, 
We expect him again ; 

"But if he should choose 

For to tarry all winter, 
We think it not safe, 

Out of Boston to venture. 

For the Congress has met, 

And passed such votes, 
That all our old plans 

Are now come to nought. 

"And the governor says, 

So well do unite, 
He believes the devilish villains 

Determined to fight, 

"And think it not best 
To provoke them to blows, 

Lest in a cold winter, 
The harbor gets froze ; 

"And if they should come over us, 
Our fleet could not save us. 

Of consequence, 

The Devil must have us. 

"Many such stories 

He did me detain, 
Till Tom got so well 

He could stagger again. 

"And laying his course 

For crossing the hall, 
He luckily met - . 

With an impudent fall, 

"Which brought him at last, 
Two yards on the floor, 
Which tickled me so, 
I dreamed no more." 


"Ye powers look down and pity my case, 
For the once great Burgoyne is now in dis- 

For I am surrounded by a numerous foe, 
Who, I fear, my whole army will soon over- 
"Oh, cursed be the villain who did us much 


Who carried to England so false a report. 
For it is commonly reported in fair England, 
That the sight of a Briton would make Yan- 
kees run, 

"That the report of a cannon would make 
Yankees fly, 

"Oh, were they as numerous as stars in the 


To my woful experience I found it was false, 
For of two, the Yankees are better than us. 
"They will fight with great valor when in the 

open field, 
Take them in the forest, then Britons must 

For they will shut up one eye, and squint at 

the gun, 

And we are surely dead as soon as that's done. 
We stand no more chance among Yankee 

Than to fling an old cat into hell without 


On the arrival of the "courier" with 
news of the Lexington fight, the min- 
ute men of the upper parish quickly 
gathered at the training field on the 
main road. The company having been 
formed, boards were thrown over an 
ox-cart ; from this hastily improvised 
rostrum, Parson Toppan spoke a few 
words of patriotism and encouragement, 
then invoked the Divine blessing upon 
the gallant band. Meantime individu- 
als were going from house to house, 
collecting food and other necessaries. 
The news came at midnight, and soon 
after sunrise the company commenced 
its march; the rations, baggage, etc., 
being conveyed by two ox- teams. One 
can imagine the sensation throughout 
the usually quiet country side. The 
sorrowful faces and anxious hearts, 
prayerfully striving to bear the worst 
bravely, for the sake of country and 

By order q the selectmen on the 
following day, a further supply of pro- 
visions was forwarded to the troops. 
Every household contributed, and the 
donations were most generous. The 
day had been a busy one at Crane- 
neck ; the large and small ovens had 
been filled and refilled; beef, pork, 
hams, flour, meal and a small supply 



of groceries and medicines, been pack- 
ed ; lint been scraped and bandages 
rolled. This was sad work, but pro- 
vision must be made for the worst. It 
was near sunset when aunt Sarah, 
(then a girl of sixteen,) on her way to 
the well, espied a horseman coming 
at a furious pace up the road, swinging 
his hat and shouting : "The regulars are 
coming ! The}- have landed at Plum 
Island, have got to Artichoke bridge, 
are burning and killing all before them ! " 
For an instant the maiden stood in 
frightened bewilderment, then she ran 
to communicate the news. The neigh- 
bors flocked in, a terror stricken 
throng, to counsel respecting further 
measures. Most of the able bodied 
men armed themselves and went to 
seek the foe, if foe were there. After 
the first excitement had passed, doubts 
of the genuineness of the tidings arose. 
.Neither my grandfather Smith, nor 
grandsir Little credited the story, and 
the}* advised every one, after the men 
had marched away to stay quietly at 
home until further intelligence could be 
obtained. A few did so, but most, in 
a perfect frenzy of fright, sought every 
means for safety. 

Uncle Thurrel's farm at that time be- 
longed to the family of the late Dr. 
Adams. This gentleman had been the 
first physician to settle in the town ; he 
acquired a wide spread practice in the 
surrounding infant settlements, and at 
his decease left a reputation for superi- 
or knowledge and skill. The house 
was occupied by his grandchildren, 
and their aged and feeble widowed 
mother. This household passed the 
night in the greatest anxiety and 
alarm. Having hidden their choicest 
effects, the horse was harnessed to the 
chaise, an uncovered vehicle on two 

wheels, at that time the stylish equip- 
age for ladies, which was drawn up 
before the door through the night, 
while the old lady, wrapped in a cover- 
let sat through the long hours in her 

O O 

large arm chair, in readiness to be con- 
veyed down "South End," a rocky, 
steep declivity at the southerly side of 
the hill, a descent from which one 
might have expected as dire a catas- 
trophe, as from a raid of any number 
of "regulars." 

Old Mr. Joshua Bartlett, commonly 
designated "Uncle Vun," yoked his 
oxen to the cart, and took his family 
to the Platts place, a lone, unoccupied 
farm-house, remote from the road. 
Several families sought the same ref- 
uge. Ool. Stephen Bartlett was an in- 
fant just weaned ; in the flurry the jug 
of milk had been left behind, and the 
hungry babe demanded his food so lus- 
tily, that some one in the distracted 
throng proposed to kill him, lest his 
cries should disclose their hiding place. 

Hannah Eastman, an old, asthma- 
tic woman, breathed so hard, she was 
wrapped in a blanket and buried in the 
leaves under a stone wall, at some dis- 
tance from the house. After a sleep- 
less night, at sunrise the croud ven- 
tured home. One young fellow, in- 
stead of marching to meet the "regu- 
lars," skedaddled into the pasture, 
having armed himself with a jnnk of 
salt pork, and half a loaf brown bread, 
in addition to his gun and powder 
horn ; he climbed into an oak, and 
quakingly awaited events. The night 
wore on, da}' dawned, the sun rose, 
ascended higher and higher, noon 
passed, still the young hero durst not 
venture from his sylvan retreat, until 
his absence having created a general 
alarm, he was descried by a squad of 



relatives and neighbors who had insti- 
tuted a search. 

One gentleman hid his papers in a 
hollow tree from which the}' were ex- 
tracted with much difficulty ; his wife 
lowered her silver spoons into the well, 
and the servant girl, beside herself with 
fright, pulled the "nubs and drops" 
from her ears and flung them into the 
same receptacle. The spoons were re- 
covered, but the ear jewels could never 
be found. It was an anxious and 
sleepless night for all. I have often 
heard Mrs. Moses Cohnan, then Betty 
Little, a girl of nine, relate how she 
fancied the wind in the chimney, and 
the sizzling of the wood fire, were the 
drums and fifes of the enemy. Towards 
morning the men and bo}"S returned, 
without sight or hearing of "regulars." 
How this scare arose was never known, 
but it was supposed to have been a 
strategem to try the mettle of the peo- 

Anxious weeks, which had brought 
but few tidings from the army around 
Boston, had glided awa} r . The morn- 
ing of the seventeenth of June dawned, 
a hot summer da} T . The spring had 
been uncommonly warm, and vegeta- 
tion was unusually forward. In those 
days it was the custom to have men's 
garments made at hoin j. Tailor Palm- 
er, a veteran of the old French war, 
came to Capt. Smith's that day to fash- 
ion the go-to-meeting coats and breeches 
for the summer. Aunt Sarah was sew- 
ing with the tailor, when her ear caught 
a rumble. "Did it thunder?" She 
rose and looked from the door. Not a 
cloud was in sight. Again and again 
she caught the sound as of distant 
thunder. The men came from the field 
to luncheon, but paused to look and 
listen. "I'll tell ye what 'tis," said the 

tailor, "its big guns, cannon. There's 
a battle." The noise increased, and it 
was evident the old soldier was right. 
Soon smoke was discerned on the 
southern sk}^, which momentarily in- 
creased in volume. It was thought 
that Boston was burning. Higher and 
higher rose the smoke, louder thundered 
the cannon, work was forgotten, the 
dinner remained untasted. People be- 
gan to flock up the hill, in groups they 
watched and listened. Slowly the lurid 
sun sank in the sky, gradually the boom 
of the guns ceased, the smoke cleared, 
and all was over. Nothing could be 
done but to await intelligence, with 
what calmness and patience could be 
summoned. The news of the battle of 
Bunker Hill, and the burning of Charles- 
town was received the next day, but 
the full particulars did not come for 
more than a week. I believe no one in 
our companies were killed, a few were' 
wounded. Col. Joseph Whitmore and 
Sergeant Amos Pearson of Newbury- 
port were wounded, and several men 
killed. Capt. Ezra Lunt's company, 
acting as rear guard, suffered severely. 
Quite a number from the four com- 
panies that fought at Bunker Hill 
joined the disastrous expedition against 
Quebec, the September following. This 
force consisted of eleven companies of 
musketmen and three companies of 
riflemen, amounting to eleven hundred 
men, under the command of Col. Ben- 
edict Arnold, Lieut. -Colonel Christo- 
pher Green of Rhode Island, and Ma- 
jor Timothy Bigelow of Massachusetts. 
The Newbury and Newburyport men 
were in Capt. Ward's company. The 
riflemen were commanded by Capt. 
Daniel Morgan. The Rev. Samuel 
Spring, afterwards the distinguished 
pastor of the North church in Newbury- 



port, acted as chaplain. Many noted 
men accompanied this band ; Matthew 
Ogden, Aaron Burr, John I. Henry, af- 
terwards Judge Henry of Pennsylva- 
nia ; Captain, afterwards Gen. Henry 
Dearborn of New Hampshire ; Major 
Keturn I. Meigs, Captains William 
Kendricks and Matthew Smith, with 
others whose names have descended 
amongst the Revolutionary heroes. The 
detachment arrived in Xewburyport 
Saturday, Sept. 16th, and embarked at 
10 a. m. on Tuesdaj', the 19th, in elev- 
en transports, sloops and schooners. 
The troops were quartered in the rope- 
walk of Edmund Swett, which extend- 
ed from Fair to Federal streets ; the 
riflemen bivouacked at the head of 
Rolfe's lane, now Ocean avenue, and 
the officers were entertained at the spa- 
cious and hospitable mansions of Na- 
thaniel Tracy and Tristram Dalton. 

This was a notable epoch for Xcw- 
buryport. The short sojourn of the 
army was, made a season of gaiety. 
The sunn}' side, with all the pomp and 
pageantry of war. 

On Sunday, the troops, with drums 
rolling and flags frying, marched to the 
Old South meeting house. This had 
been completed *but a few years, and 
was the largest and one of the finest 
places of public worship in New Ens- 
land. The high pulpit and elaborately- 
ornamented sounding board were cele- 
brated specimens of the style of the 
period. To the right of the sacred 
desk was a high seat for the sexton, 
and before it the " elders' seat," a 
square pew, raised a few steps, with a 
table in the centre. In front of this 
came the " deacon's seat." To this 
was attached the communion table, 
which was swung back when not in 
use. A broad aisle and two side aisles 

ran through the house. The pews were 
square, with seats all around and a 
chair in the centre. Spacious galleries 
ran around three sides of the house, 
the ' singing seats " being opposite the 
pulpit, and at either end there were 
large porches. 

The troops, having halted in the 
aisles, presented arms as their chaplain. 
a keen-eyed, stalwart young fellow, six 
feet high, passed through. The guns 
having been stacked in the aisles, 
the soldiers were seated in the body of 
the house, the galleries and every other 
available portion being packed by a 
crowd of citizens. The clergyman 
preached fromthe text, "If thy Spirit 
go not up with us, carry us not up 
hence." The eloquence and power of 
the preacher made such an impression 
on his audience, that before he left, a 
promise had been secured that he 
would return to the town, at the end 
of the war. This promise was re- 
deemed, and the South church and the 
Rev. Dr. Samuel Spring, became 
watchwords upon the hill of Ziou. 
The following morning there was a 
grand review, in which the men ap- 
peared to great advantage, their spir- 
its being raised b}* the presence of hun- 
dreds of sympathizing spectators, 
drawn thither from far and near. The 
officers were entertained at dinner and 
evening parties, at which majestic mat- 
rons and lovely maidens, in their rich- 
est brocades, and choicest gauzes and 
laces, conversed most graciously and 
smiled their sweetest, using every ex- 
ertion for the amusement of the gallant 
men, about to risk their lives on the 
altar of liberty. In friendly courtes}', 
glass clinked to glass with fervent 
wishes for honor and success. Grace- 
fully the stately minuet was danced. 



Enthusiastically, patriotic songs were 
sung to the accompaniment of the spin- 
net or harpsicord. On the morning of 
the nineteenth, amid cheer upon cheer 
from the assembled multitude, the 
troops embarked. In a perfect whirl- 
wind of patriotic excitement, flags fly- 
ing, drums beating and fifes playing. 
the transports weighed anchor, their 
sails gleaming in the bright sunlight ; 
thej- slowly glided down the broad, 
beautiful Merrimac, and with aching- 
hearts, but a brave front, the citizens 
dispersed, to pursue again the even 
tenor of life. 


From the settlement of the town, 
ship-building had been one of the chief 
employments of the "water side peo- 
ple." Prior to the revolution, this bus- 
iness had been very lucrative. Though 
many of the vessels launched at our 
yards were owned and fitted for sea 
b}- the "Port" merchants, others were 
built expressly for the English market. 
The British merchants purchased our 
ships and lumber; in return we re- 
ceived their manufactures, and the 
produce from their possessions in the 
West Indies. As Newburyport was 
the centre for the trade of a wide agri- 
cultural district, it had become one of 
the most thriving of the sea-board 

Partnerships often existed between 
our merchants and individuals in Eng- 
land. Mr. Benjamin Harris and an 
English gentleman, Mr. Witter Cum- 
mings, built a ship at Samuel Mogga- 

ridge's yard, shortly before the war. 
At the commencement of the troubles, 
much of our merchant marine was sent 
out as privateers. Some of these were 
most successful, full} r repa}-ing their 
owners for the business lost by the war. 
So many prizes within a few days were 
brought in to Mr. Joseph Marquand, 
that in the press of the occasion, that 
gentleman hastily exclaimed, "Oh Lord ! 
Thy servant has enough ; stay thy 
hand." His prayer was answered, 
for with subsequent losses, and the 
great fire, the rich merchant died a 
comparative!}' poor man. 

Many of the vessels cleared from the 
port were either lost at sea or taken by 
the enemy. The fate of several with 
that of their crews was never known. 
The loss of one, the "Yankee Hero," 
carrying twenty guns, commanded by 
Capt. James Tracy, brought mourning 
throughout the town, as out of one 
hundred and seventy men, fifty were 
from Newburyport and vicinity, volun- 
teers from some of the first families. 

Those so unfortunate as to fall into 
the enemy's hands, suffered great hard- 
ship in the loathsome English prisons 
and prison ships. The crews of the 
brig Dalton, fitted out by Stephen 
Hooper, and the brigantine Fanny, 
were confined between two and three 
years, in the Old Mill prison in Ply 

Many of the privateers were of small 
burthen, and but poorly armed ; still 
this hastily improvised navy did good' 
service, making many notable captures, 
and carrying havoc to the enemy's 

The following is the commission of 
the commander of one of these ves- 
sels : 




The Major of the Council of the 
Massachusetts Bay, New England. 
To John AViggles worth, Gentleman, 

You being appointed to take the 
James Bowdoin Winthrop, Command 
Rich'd Derby jr. of the armed Sloop 
J. Gushing called the Swift, of the 

S. Holton burthen of thirty-five 

Jabez Fisher tons, or thereabouts, 
Moses Gill mounting four swivels 

B. White & one carriage Gun, 

Benj. Austin and navigated by ten 
Henry Gardener men, fitted out at the 
W. Phillips expense, & for the 
Dan. Davis service of this Colony. 

B. Lincoln By virtue of the pow- 

Dan. Hopkins er vested in us, we do 
by these presents (reposing special 
trust and confidence in your ability, 
courage, and good conduct,) commis- 
sion you accordingly, and give you the 
said John Wiggles worth, full power 
with such persons as shall engage to 
your assistance, by force of arms to 
attack, seize, and take the Ships, and 
other Vessels belonging to the inhabi- 
tants of Great Britain, or any of them 
with Tackel, Apparel, furniture & Lad- 
ing on the high seas, or between high 
water and low water mark, and to 
bring the same to some convenient Port 
in this colony, in order that the courts, 
which have been, or shall be hereafter 
appointed to hear & determine maritime 
causes, may proceed in due form to 
condemn the said Captaines if they be 
adjudged lawful Prize, the said John 
Wigglesworth having given bonds to 
the Treasurer of this Colony with suffi- 
cient Sureties that nothing be done by 
the said John Wigglesworth or any of 
his Officers, Marines, or Company of 
the said Vessel contrary to, or incon- 
sistaut with the usage and customs of 
Nations, and the instructions that are 
or may be given to him by order of the 
Great and General Court. And we 
will, and require all our officers to give 
Succour and assistance to the said John 
Wigglesworth in the premises. This 
commission to continue in force until 
further orders. 

Given under our hands and Seal of 
the said colon}' at Watertown, the third 
day of June in the year of our LORD, 
one thousand seven hundred and sev- 

By their Honor's Command. 

Of the Newbuiyport vessels, a large 
number were sent out by Messrs. Na- 
thaniel and John Tracy. Their ships 
captured one hundred and twenty sail, 
which, with their cargoes, brought three 
million, nine hundred and fifty thousand 
dollars. Of this sum, one hundred and 
sixty-seven thousand, two hundred and 
nineteen dollars, was devoted to the 
army and other public exigencies. Out 
of one hundred and ten merchant ves- 
sels, twenty-three of which were let- 
ters-of-marque, only thirteen, and of 
twenty-four cruisers, but one, remained 
at the close of the war ; all the others 
had been lost or captured. The ship 
Friends, Capt. Bowie, of London, bound 
to Boston with provisions for the Brit- 
ish arm}', having mistaken her course, 
on the morning of the loth of January 
was discovered off the "Bar." Three 
whale boats manned by armed men, 
commanded by Capt. Offin Boardman, 
immediately put out to her. Captain 
Boardmau, representing himself as a 
pilot from Boston, was taken on board. 
Whilst the unsuspecting English cap- 
tain was conversing with the supposed 
pilot on the quarter-deck, the crews 
from the three boats, seventeen in num- 
ber, quietly ascended the gangway. See- 
ing all was read}', Capt. Boardman in 
stentorian tones ordered the English 
flag to be struck. Overcome by aston- 
ishment, neither the commander nor 
crew made the least resistance, and the 
prize was brought -in triumph to the 

The ship Hibernia, owned by Cap- 
tains Joseph and John O'Brien, and 



commanded by the latter, was very 
successful. On her first cruise she cap- 
tured three brigs, a ship, and two 
schooners, in less than four weeks. In 
this cruise she met with a sixteen-gun 
ship, with which she had an engage- 
ment that lasted nearly two hours, but 
from which she finally escaped, with 
the loss of three men and several 

Capt. AVilliam Russell, in the Gen. 
Ward, a small vessel, mounting one 
light swivel, with about a dozen men, 
each armed with a musket, captured 
two brigs and a schooner. Only two 
men could be spared to be put on board 
the schooner, and she was retaken, but 
the brigs were brought safely into 
town. The privateer Hawk, Captain 
.lark Lee, sent in an English brig from 
Oporto, loaded with wine, and a large 
amount of specie. Captain Moses 
Brown, in the privateer Gen. Arnold, 
took several rich prizes, but was at 
length captured by the British brig Ex- 
periment, of fifty guns. Capt. Brown 
was for some time confined on board a 
prison ship at Savannah, Georgia, but 
was exchanged, and returned to New- 

On May 19, 1780, occurred that phe- 
nomenon, commonly called the "Dark 
day." There had been extensive fires 
in the woods, and for several da} r s pre- 
vious the air had been thick, and the 
sky murky. On the memorable nine- 
teenth, the sun rose as usual, but soon 
clouds began to appear and the whole 
sky became overcast ; about ten o'clock 
there was a slight shower. My mother, 
then thirteen years of age, had gone to 
the garret to give it the spring cleaning. 
At first she thought a thunder shower 
was rising, but the increasing dark- 
ness, and the singular aspect without, 

caused her to leave her work, and in 
somewhat of a panic join the family 
below. Dense, black clouds overspread 
the heavens with a lighter gleam at the 
horizon ; the fowls went to roost, and 
the birds flew into the trees. The 
darkness was the most intense between 
twelve and one o'clock. Candles were 
lighted for the dinner table, and the 
meal was shorter and more silent than 
usual. Both grandsir and grandma'm 
Little were quiet, firm people ; there 
was no undue excitement in their 
household, still it was a strange, and 
somewhat solemn day. Many families / 
were in a perfect frenzy. ' ' The Judg- 
ment Day had come," and amid tears 
and piteous lamentations and confes- 
sions, with pra}'er and Bible reading, the 
frightened creatures tremblingly passed 
the hours, momentarily expecting that 
the dread trump would sound. The 
darkness continued into the night, but 
the following morning the sun rose 
bright and the air had resumed its 
usual clearness. 

A while after, the inhabitants of the 
upper parish had another fright. Mr. 
Enos Bartlett, at the Training Field, 
had a load of bricks to draw to Byfield. 
The weather was intensely hot, and he 
started soon after midnight. The cart 
wheels were dry, needed greasing; 
they soon began to creak. The noise 
increased, until it blended into a series 
of unearthly creaks and grinds . Along 
the route every one was aroused, half 
unconscious, and unable to understand 
the diabolical sounds, most were terri- 
bly frightened. As it was a still night, 
the noise reached quite a distance, and 
what it was could not be imagined. 
Some thinking the last day had come, 
fell to praying and reading their bibles. 
When Mr. Bartlett reached the brook 



above grandsir Little's, he drove 
through the water, thus ending the noise 
and commotion. I have often heard 
aunt Hannah describe the fright of 
herself and the other children, roused 
from sound sleep, but grandma'm hav- 
ing ascertained the source of the dis- 
cord, went about and quieted her flock, 
and thereafter she would never permit 
her girls to laugh at their more credu- 
lous neighbors, bidding them, "to so 
live that at any moment the judg- 
ment might find them ready to give a 
good account." 

The depreciation of the paper mon- 
ey issued by congress to meet the exi- 
gencies of the war for a time caused 
general disorder in monetary affairs, and 
in some instances great distress. By 
1780, the continental money had driv- 
en nearly ah 1 the gold and silver out of 
circulation, and this paper currency' 
lessened in value with such rapidity 
that in remote places, and where people 
were unacquainted with the money mar- 
ket, fraud could be easily perpetrated. 
In this way Gen. John Peabody's 
mother was cheated out of a large part 
of her late husband's estate. She sold 
the homestead for a good price, and 
received in full payment a whole trunk 
full of money, which to her utter 
amazement and dismay she learned 
was in reality not worth more than a 
third of its nominal value. When I 
was a child, I had several of these 
continental bills, with which I used to 
play shopping, and for years my father 
kept one in his wallet as a memento, 
laughingly averring that so long as this 
bill was in his pocket he was not de- 
void of mone}-. Aunt Sarah had a 
calico dress, which cost a one hundred 
dollar bill, and a set of knitting nee- 
dles for which she paid a dollar. Mrs. 

Moses Colman, then Betty Little, paid 
one hundred and fifty dollars for sutH- 
cient black silk to make a short cloak, 
a sort of mantilla, then fashionable for 
summer wear. She often laughingly 
boasted of her one expensive garment. 

In 1789, Washington on his eastern 
tour visited Newbmyport. He came 
Friday, Dec. 1. and remained until the 
next morning. 

In nry childhood I often heard descrip- 
tions of the grandeur of his reception, and 
on a stormy Sunday I often conned the 
volumes of th6 "Essex Journal and New 
Hampshire Packet," of December 
fourth, which contained a full account 
of the proceedings. This was the first 
paper printed in the town, a Repub- 
lican sheet, first published Dec. 4, 
1773, by Thomas and Tinges, and con- 
tinued by Ezra Lunt and John Mycall. 
The President came by the old Boston 
road, over the Parker river bridge, and 
through Oldtown. At the upper green 
he left his carriage, and mounted his 
horse. He had been met at Ipswich 
and escorted hither, by Marshall Jack- 
son, the High Sheriff of the county of 
Essex, the Hon. Tristram Dalton. 
Maj. General Titcomb, and other offi- 
cers and gentlemen from Xewburyport 
and the surrounding towns, and two 
companies of cavalry from Ipswich 
and Andover. As the cortege moved 
on to High street, it was met near 
South, now Bromfield. by a long pro- 
cession. The Artillery fired a Federal 
salute, and a company of young men 
sang the following ode : 

"He comes. He comes! The Hero comes! 
Sound, Sound your trumpets, Beat, Beat 

your Drums. 

From port, to port, let cannons roar, 
His welcome to Xew England's shore. 

Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome, 
Welcome to New England's shore! 

Prepare ! Prepare ! your Songs prepare, 



Loud, loudly rend the echoing air; 
From Pole to Pole, his praise resound, 
For Virtue is with glory crowned. 
Virtue, virtue, virtue, virtue, 
Virtue is with glory crowned." 

The lines in the first verse, which call 
for the beating of drums and roaring 
of cannon, were instantly obeyed, 
after the pronunciation of each word, 
and to the vocal was joined all the 
instrumental music in both choruses, 
which were repeated. Washington 
was exceedingly pleased with this novel 
reception, moved even to tears. Next 
theTresident, preceded b}' the several 
companies of Militia and Artiller}' of 
the town, the Musicians, Selectmen, 
High Sheriff and Marshall Jackson, 
passed the Ministers, Physicians, Law- 
yers, Magistrates, Town officers, Ma- 
rine Societ3*, Tradesmen and Manu- 
facturers, Captains of.. Vessels, Sailors, 
and School Masters with their Scholars, 
who had paraded, and opened to the 
right and left, each of whom as the 
President passed closed and joined in 
the procession, which was terminated 
by four hundred and twenty scholars, 
all with quills in their hands, headed 
by their Preceptors. Their motto, 
"We are the free born subjects of the 
I'nited States." This procession passed 
through High to State street conducting 
Washington to the residence of Nathan- 
iel Tracy, esq., where he was enter- 
tained in princely style. On his arri- 
val he was greeted with the follow- 
ing address, written by John Qnincy 
Adams, then a student at law in the 
ollice of Theophilus Parsons, e.sq., who 
had been appointed by the town to 
prepare it. 

To the President of the United 
States : Sir : When, by the unani- 
mous suffrages of your countrymen, 
3*011 were called to preside over their 
public councils, the citizens of the town 

of Newburyport participated in the 
general JO3* that arose from anticipa- 
ting an administration conducted by 
the man to whose wisdoBBt and valor 
they owed their liberties. Pleasing were 
their reflections, that he who, by the 
blessing of Heaven, had given them 
their independance, would again relin- 
quish the felicities of domestic retire- 
ment, to teach 'them its just value. 
They have seen 3*ou, victorious, leave 
the field, followed with the applause of 
a grateful country ; and they now see 
3*011, entwining the Olive with the Lau- 
rel, and, in peace, giving security and 
happiness to a people, whom in war, 
3*011 covered with glory. At the pres- 
ent moment, they indulge themselves 
in sentiments of joy, resulting from a 
principle, perhaps less elevated, but 
exceedingly dear to their hearts, from 
a gratification of their affections, in be- 
holding personall-- among them, the 
Friend, the Benefactor, and the Father 
of their Country. 

They cannot hope, Sir, to exhibit 
any pecular marks of attachment to 
3*our person ; for, could they express 
their feelings of the most ardent and 
sincere gratitude, they would only re- 
peat the sentiments, which are deeply* 
impressed upon the hearts of all their 
fellow citizens ; but, in justice to them- 
selves, they beg leave to assure 3*ou, 
that in no part of the United States 
are those sentiments of gratitude and 
affection more cordial and animated 
than in the town, which, at this time,' 
is honored with 3*our presence. 

Long, sir, may yon continue the or- 
nament and support of these States, 
and may the period be late, when 3 r ou 
shall be called to receive a reward, ad- 
equate to 3*our virtue, which it is not 
in the power of this country to bestow. 

The President replied as follows : 
"To the citizens of the town of New- 
buiyport : 

Gentlemen : The demonstrations of 
respect and affection which 3*011 are 
pleased to pa3* to an individual whose 
highest pretension is to rank as your 
fellow-citizen, are of a nature too dis- 



tinguished not to claim the warmest re- 
turn that gratitude can make. 

My endeavors to be iiseful to my 
country have been no more than the 
result of conscious duty. Regards like 
yours, would reward services of the 
highest estimation and sacrifice ; yet, 
it is due to my feelings, that I should 
tell you those regards are received with 
esteem, and replied to with sincerity. 

In visiting the town of Newburyport, 
I have obeyed a favorite inclination, 
and I am much gratified bj- the indul- 
gence. In expressing a sincere wish 
for its prosperity, and the happiness 
of its inhabitants, I do justice to my 
own sentiments and their merit." 

A feu de joie was fired by the mili- 
tia companies, and in the evening there 
was a display of fireworks. Saturday 
morning the President started for Ports- 
mouth, under the escort that conducted 
him into town, with the addition of a 
large number of military and other gen- 
tlemen of Newburyport, who accompa- 
nied him to the New Hampshire line, 
where he was met by Gen. Sullivan, Gov- 
ernor of the State, with four companies 
of light-horse, who conducted him to 
Portsmouth. This was previous to the 
erection of the Essex Merrimac bridge, 
and Washington crossed the river at 
the Amesbury ferry. The Marine so- 
% ciet}' fitted and decorated a barge for 
that purpose, which was commanded 
by one their members, the bargemen 
being dressed in white. As the boat 
came midway the stream, a ship from 
Teneriffe, gaily adorned with flags and 
commanded by Captain Joseph A. de 
Murrietta, fired the salute of his nation, 
twenty-one guns. In Amesbury and 
Salisbury the militia were paraded, and 
saluted the President as he passed. 


The French Revolution, and the gen- 
eral confusion which reigned in Europe 
after the decapitation of Louis XVI, 
brought a large carrying trade to the 
seaports of the Union. American ship- 
ping was protected in the Texal, and 
the Empress Catherine granted us the 
freedom of the Baltic. A brisk trade 
was opened with the English, French, 
Spanish and Dutch possessions. 
Though Newbur3 ? port prospered from 
her foreign trade for a number of years, 
yet man}- heavy losses occurred, and 
much annoyance was experienced from 
the divers decrees of the belligerent 
powers. Under the pretext of recov- 
ering English deserters, Great Britain 
claimed the right of search. In the 
exercise of this disputed right, frequent 
seizures were made of what were called 
enemy's goods goods shipped from 
some nation with whom she was at 
war. I'nder such pretexts, vessel and 
cargo were confiscated, or subjected to 
such delay and loss that the whole 
profits of the voyage were absorbed. 
In addition to the English insults 
and injuries, the French, aggrieved 
at the refusal of the United States to 
form an alliance; with them, at the same 
time affirming that we permitted British 
to take French goods out of our ships, 
adopted retaliatory measures, and 
French privateers were fitted out to 
prey on our merchantmen. In 1793, 
the allied powers decreed that no ex- 
portation of provisions to France should 
be allowed, and they engaged to unite 
to prevent neutral nations from supply- 
ing her directly or indirectly. The 
Empress Catherine also requested the 
king of Sweden not to allow his ships 
of war to convey merchantmen destined 



for France. Thus our commerce met 
with a continuation of entanglements. 

For several years war had been 
waged between Portugal and Algiers. 
Hitherto, b}* a powerful fleet, Portugal 
had confined the Algerine cruisers to 
the Mediterranean, but in September, 
1793, a truce was concluded between 
the De} T of Algiers and the King of 
Portugal. Thus the whole Algerine 
fleet was let loose to prey upon the 
commerce of the Atlantic. Many 
American vessels were captured, the 
crews robbed and reduced to slavery, 
with no hope of release unless ran- 

In the summer of 1793, the brig 
Polly, commanded by Capt. Samuel 
Baylej', a son of Mr. Samuel Bayley, 
one of the wealthiest merchants of 
Newburyport, was taken by an Alger- 
ine cruiser, while on a voyage from 
Baltimore to Cadiz., Several of the 
crew also belonged in the town and vi- 
cinity, and the news of their capture 
created a great sensation. Though I 
was then only six years old, I vividly 
remember the heart-rending tales which 
my father, on his return from town, 
market days, used to relate, as from 
time to time tidings of the suffering cap- 
1 i VPS reached their friends. A large sum 
was raised for their ransom. The fam- 
ilies and friends of the prisoners con- 
tributed generously, and appeal was 
made in their behalf from the pulpits 
of the various societies, and a contri- 
bution taken, the Sunday preceding 
the Thanksgiving after their capture. 

The Dey of Algiers, thinking that 
our government, in its anxiety for the 
release of the prisoners, would acqui- 
esce in any demand, set such an exor- 
bitant price as their ransom that Con- 
gress, not wishing to encourage his 

piracy, demurred as to its payment ; 
but in the December following their en- 
slavement, this crew, with those of oth- 
er American vessels, were furnished, 
through Mr. Skjolderbrand, the Swed- 
ish consul, with money^ and comforta- 
ble clothing: each captain and super- 
cargo receiving eight Spanish dollars 
per month, the mates six, and the sail- 
ors three each. 

Meantime negotiations for the release 
of our countiymen were continued 
through Daniel Humphreys, esq., and 
Joseph Donaldson , jr . , esq. At length, 
in July, 1796, through the zealous ef- 
forts of these gentlemen, and of Joel 
Barlow, esq., consul-general of the 
United States to Algiers, negotiations 
were closed and the prisoners set at 
liberty, but young Capt. Ba^'ley was 
not permitted to return to his native 
shores. On the second da}' of his 
homeward voyage he was attacked with 
the plague, from which he died, after 
an illness of two days. 

One of the mariners of the brig Polly 
was John Foss, a native of By field. 
After his return he published an ac- 
count of his captivity, which was ex- 
ceedingly interesting. At that time I 
had never seen a geography "Morse, 
& Parish's" was a later production 
and Mr. Foss's delineation of foreign 


places, the Mediterranean and Algiers, 
was my introduction to a knowledge of 
that part of the world. His descrip- 
tions of the bagnio where the men were 
confined, and the cruelty shown to the 
prisoners, who were treated as slaves 
and compelled to perform severe tasks 
while heavily ironed, and subjected to 
the bastinado and other barbarities for 
the slightest offence, were touchingly 
graphic. After three years' servitude, 
on the llth of July, the prisoners were 



called from the bagnio and conducted 
to the Dey to receive their passports, 
and at 9 a. m. the}' embarked on a 
ship belonging to a Jew, Mr. Baccri. 
On the 12th, received provisions and 
got ready for sea ; on the 13th, stood 
to sea. On board were forty-eight Ne- 
apolitans that had been ransomed : that 
night one of these was taken sick with 
the plague ; this man was taken on 
shore by the harbor master. On the 
14th, another Neapolitan was taken 
sick ; he died on the 16th. On the 15th, 
Capt. Bayley was taken ill. and died on 
the 17th. Finding the plague raging 
to such a degree, the ship put into 
Marseilles. On the 8th of October, 
Mr. Foss shipped as first mate on 
board the ship Fortune of Philadelphia, 
commanded by Capt. Michael Smith. 
On the 17th, sailed from Marseilles, 
bound to Bona in Algiers, where the 
vessel arrived on the 7th of December. 
On the loth of January, 1799, again 
sailed for Marseilles ; on the 24th, was 
boarded by his Britannic Majesty's ship 
Pallas, treated politely, and permitted 
to proceed. February 5th, about nine 
leagues from Marseilles, the ship was 
captured by his Britannic Majesty's 
ships Inconstant and Blanche, and or- 
dered to Porto Ferrajo in the island of 
Elba, where they arrived on the 15th, 
and were sent on shore on the 16th, 
and not allowed to stay on board the 
frigate unless the}' would enter his 
Britannic Majesty's service. None were 
willing to do so. One man was im- 
pressed on board the Inconstant, and 
three others entered onboard the Union, 
a British transport ; the rest procured a 
passage for Leghorn, but having been 
robbed of their money and part of 
their clothes, thej' found it difficult to 
subsist until the vessel was ready to 

sail. They sailed for Leghorn on the 
23d. and arrived the next day, were: 
kept in quarantine until the 5th of 
March, on which day C'apt. Smith ar- 
rived from Porto Ferrajo, and sailed 
for Marseilles the 10th, with all the 
crew but Mr. Foss and Moses Brown 
of Newburyport, who were left sick in 
the hospital. On the 20th, Mr. Foss 
sailed from Leghorn in an open boat 
for Piombino in Naples. On his arriv- 
al he met Mr. Donaldson, the American 
consul, who had been instrumental in 
his deliverance from Algiers. In his 
company he sailed for Porto Ferrajo, 
arriving the same evening. On the 
24th, they sailed for Leghorn, arriving 
on the 26th. 

On the second of April, Mr. Foss 
embarked as passenger on board the 
Mandonna del Rosario e san Vincenzo 
Su-raro, of Ragusa, bound to Philadel- 
phia ; sailed on the 4th, and on the llth, 
was captured by a Spanish privateer 
and carried into Barcelona ; was cleared 
on the 12th, and again sailed, but on 
the 20th, was again captured by a French 
privateer, and carried into Almeria. 
treated politely, and sailed on the 22d. 
Oni:he 29th. the wind having been con- 
trary for several days, they ran into 
Malaya, where they remained until the 
21st of May. Again sailed on the 22d. 
On the same day was boarded by his 
Britannic Majesty's ship Petteral. treat- 
ed well, and permitted to proceed. On 
the 23d, at 6 p. m. was boarded by two 
Spanish privateers and carried into 
Ceuta. Mr. Foss having struck one 
of the privateer's men with a sword, 
and wounded him on the arm. was put 
into a dungeon, ironed hands and feet, 
where he was kept about an hour and 
a half. That same evening the vessel 
sailed for Philadelphia. On the 28th. 



was boarded by another Spanish pri- 
vateer, and robbed ol' a quantity of 
provisions, and the greater part of . the 
clothes of the crew and passengers. 
On the first of July was boarded by 
his Britannic Majesty's ship Wool-- 
\vieh, were treated politely, and per- 
mitted to proceed. Being short of 
provisions, endeavors were made to 
procure a supply from the Woolwich, 
but she being also short none could be 
obtained. On the 24th, spoke the brig 
.Jeiferson from St. Croix, bound to 
Philadelphia, from whom provisions 
were obtained which were most thank- 
fully received, as for nearly forty days 
they had subsisted on one biscuit per 
day, with oil and wine. On the 25th, 
Mr. Foss arrived in Philadelphia, 
where he was detained by indisposition 
until the llth of August. He then 
took passage in the schooner Ja}', be- 
longing to Edgartown, bound to Bos- 
ton, David Smith commander. He 
arrived in Boston on the 17th. On the 
23, he reached Newbmryport, and after 
such a terrible and varied experience, 
was restored to his family at Byfield. 

I have made this extract from Mr. 
Foss' journal, to show the peril wind 
annoyance to which at that period our 
marine were subjected. 

Out of the nine persons who left 
Baltimore on the brig Polly, only four 
returned besides Mr. Foss. These were 
Michael Smith, the lirst mate, Benja- 
min Edwards, the second mate, and 
Moses Brown, mariner. The others 
all died of the plague. Capt. Samuel 
E. Baykry, whose ransom had been 
forwarded by his father, was a young 
man of much promise, universally be- 
loved and respected, and his sad fate 
was greatly deplored. Subjoined are 
some lines written by Capt. Bayley 

while a prisoner in Algiers. They were 
addressed to a young lady to whom he 
was betrothed : 

" To you, my friend, these lines I send, 

Though distant far from me; 
Though we're apart, my aching lieart 
Is ever .still with thee. 

To 1ft thee know my grief and woe 

Is far beyond my ait; 
1 can't express the .sore distress 

That racks my pained lieart. 

I mourn and weep while others sleep, 

My nights are turned to day : 
While time runs on, and hope forlorn, 

And rest goes far away. 

I think of thee where'er I be, 

Of thy unhappy state: 
My thoughts and care are always there 

On thee I contemplate. 

Though hard my fate and wretched state, 

I pray for a relief; 
That God would bless me in distress 

And mitigate my grief. 

Without neglect I shall respect 

My parents till I die; 
Their tender care for my welfare 

Lives in my memory. 

I trust in God who holds the rod 

And doth chastise in love; 
He can relieve the captive slave, 

And hear him from above." 

At this time imposters were often 
met, tramping from place to place, 
begging money, under the pretext of 
raising the ransom of a son or brother 
held in captivity at Algiers. For years 
such persons were an annoyance eveiy-, 
where, and often a terror to solitary 
people in lone country houses. 


The conflicts of the French Revolu- 
tion reached the French West Indian 
colonies with even more intense cruel- 
ties than in the mother country. One 
day one part}' was in power, the next 



the opposite. On all sides persons in 
authority were imprisoned and guillo- 
tined, their property confiscated, and 
their children outlawed. Mam* of the 
most wealthy and influential citizens 
became fugitives. As Newburyport 
had a large West Indian commerce, 
many of these exiles came thither. In 
Guadaloupe the blood-thirsty mob 
poured out upon the' noble families the 
brutal passion of wild beasts. The 
atrocities committed almost surpass be- 
lief. Many met the most horrible 
deaths ; a few were enabled to escape 
to neighboring islands in boats ; and 
about twenty succeeded in getting on 
board of a brig belonging in Newbuiy- 
port, which lay off the island, which ar- 
rived at that port in March, 1792. 
Among these exiles was St. Sauveur de 
Poyen. His eldest and youngest sons, 
Robert and St. Sauveur, were killed by 
the brutal mob of republicans ; but the 
father and three sons, Joseph Roch- 
mont, Montrape, Dupiton, and two 
daughters, escaped, and succeeded, af- 
ter great suffering, in getting on board 
the Newburyport brig. 

St. Sauveur de Poyen was a direct 
descendant from the Marquis Jean de 
Poyen, who emigrated to the island of 
Guadaloupe in 1658. He inherited all 
the instincts and pride of the aristoc- 
racy of France, the class to which he 
belonged, and when the troublous times 
of the French Revolution came, they 
found him a staunch royalist and an ar- 
dent defender of King Louis XVI. 
The loss of home, change of climate, 
grief and anxiety, was too much for 
the exile ; he passed away only a few 
months before Louis was beheaded, 
the king to whose cause he was so 
strongly attached, for which he sacri- 
ficed a home of luxury and ease. 

" Habitation Piton," five miles from 
the romantic village of St. Rose, is the 
point at which the French discovered 
the island. The plantation borders on 
the sea. A romantic ride by the shore 
brings the ' ' Habitation " to view on a 
small plateau, a little distance up the 
side of the mountain. Turning from 
the shore the road runs direct to the 
"Habitation," through a valley filled 
with sugar-cane. A broad avenue ter- 
minates the valley road, with rows of 
lofty palms on either side ; a winding 
way leads to the dwelling. This 
point presents a panorama of great 
beauty. The valley, widening as it re- 
cedes, is filled with luxuriant cane, 
which also covers the mountains far up 
their sides. About a mile from the 
shore, a circular rock called "English- 
man's head," rises from the water to 
the height of one hundred feet, and is 
the only object that breaks the surface 
of the broad ocean to the horizon ; in 
the distance two shadowy forms appear, 
the islands of Montserrat and Antigua, 
so indistinct and misty as not to break 
the horizon line. 

In a low, narrow valley in the old 
gra^ej-ard on burying hill, in Newbury- 
port, is a stone bearing this inscription : 









After a few }*ears, when affairs had 
become settled, several of the surviv- 
ing exiles returned to their homes. 
Amongst those that remained were Jo- 
seph Rochemont de Poyen, de St. Sau- 
veur, (St. Sauveur indicated the branch 
of the family to which he belonged), 



and a sister who died in Baltimore. 
This land of refuge had many attrac- 
tions for young Poyen. He never 
wearied of wandering up and down 
the shores of the beautiful Merpmac. 
Some twelve years were spent in care- 
less, easy living, dividing his time be-, 
tween the town, and the romantic villa- 
ges along the river's bank. At one of 
these, Rock's Bridge, (East Haverhill) , 
he at length passed most of his time. 
It is a singularly picturesque spot, and 
its natural beauties attracted the artistic 
eye of the sensitive 3'oung Frenchman. 
Here also he met the guiding star of 
his life, Sally Elliot, a handsome, bril- 
liant girl, a daughter of one of the 
oldest families of the place, and with 
the impetuous character of his race, he 
carried off and married his willing 
bride, in spite of the protest of her 
parents. In this village they settled, 
and children were born to them. Years 
passed, and grandchildren also came, 
and grew up to love the dear old man, 
whose delight it was to play and dance 
with them ; he grew old in years but 
not in elasticity of spirit, and his life 
went out in glorious 'fullness, at a ripe 
old age. I well remember Sally EMiot ; 
she made Rochemont de Po3~en a most 
excellent wife ; and I vividly recall the 
genial Frenchman ; a lithe, active man, 
a great fancier of horse flesh, alwa} T s 
ready for a trade ; he and my grandsir 
Little frequently had dealings together. 
His fiddle Avas also ever at the service 
of the young folks. The beaux and 
belles of the main road were often in- 
debted to Mr. Poyen for the music at a 
social dance. Though irascible and 
impatient, he was the soul of wit and 
good humor, happy in making all 
around him happy. 

The Poyen arms are : 


With the family of St. Sauveur de 
Poyen came his nephew the Count Fran- 
cis de Vipart, the son of a Count of the 
same name, and a grandson of the Mar- 
quis de Vipart. This young man re- 
mained in America, accompanying his 
cousin Joseph Rochemont de Poyen in 
his wanderings upon the banks of the 
Merrimac, and with him located at the 
"Rocks." There he married another 
of the village belles and beauties, Mary 
Ingalls. The Ingalls family through 
the Bradstreets, were connections of 
my grandmother Little. Mary Ingalls 
possessed uncommon personal and "men- 
tal attractions. Of medium height, hair 
in long golden curls, violet eyes, fair 
complexion and rosy cheeks, "none 
knew her but to love her." In a house 
nestled between the hills, since for 
many years owned and occupied by the 
late Dr. Kennison, the French lord 
wooed and won the Puritan maid. 
Their moonlight sails, and saunterings 
upon the pleasant Newbury shore, with 
the sweet strains of the Count's violin, 
are still remembered by a few aged in- 

The wedding created a great sensa- 
tion in the quiet village. The bride 



looked supremely lovely in a dress of 
pink satin, with an over dress of white 
lace, and white satin slippers. 

Though it was the delight of the 
Count to lavish every luxury upon his 
young wife 1 ^ she continued the same un- 
pretending, modest person as before 
marriage. A few short weeks of bliss, 
and a shade fell over the sunlight of the 
new life of the wedded pair. Naturally 
delicate, continuous care and attention 
to a sick mother, had planted the germs 
of New England's scourge, consump- 
tion, by which the Countess de Vipart 
rapidly declined. In this illness she is 
described as presenting an almost 
seraphic loveliness. Reclining in an 
eas}- chair, draped in white, her appear- 
ance was that of a being of a higher 
world than earth. 

Not a twelvemonth from the joyous 
bridal eve, the village bell pealed the 
funeral knell, and the remains of the 
lovely Mary Ingalls, Countess de Vi- 
part, were deposited under the turf of 
the quiet rural burial place on the hill 
side, "beneath the locust bloom." A 
low, slate stone, the style of the period, 
marks her grave, it bears this inscrip- 
tion ? 



DIED JANL'AUY 5, 1807, 


This incident of the union of the ex- 
iled nobleman and the New England 
maiden, Whittier has woven into one of 
his most pleasing ballads, and in his 
''Countess" it will be perpetuated to 
future generations 

''The Gascon lord, the village maid, 
In death still clasp their hands; 
The love that levels rank and grade, 
Unite their severed hand.-;.'"' 

Overwhelmed with grief, the stricken 
husband soon after his wife's death, re- 

turned to his West Indian home. Sev- 
eral articles that had belonged to the 
Count and his bride, are still cherished 
as sacred mementoes, b}* relatives and 
friends, in the vicinity of the home of 
their brief wedded life. 

Time having in a measure healed the 
heart wound, Count de Vipart again 
married in Guadaloupe, where he died 
and was buried. His descendants still 
reside at their homes on the island, 
ranking high in the order of nobility. 

The retired valley on the old burying 
hill, Newburyport. contains the re- 
mains of several French exiles, who 
died during the years from 1792 to 
1812. Doubtless the whole number 
were Catholics, and as at that period 
no ground had been consecrated in the 
Puritan town, this quiet spot was chos- 
en in a Protestant burial ground, t 
la}- their bodies apart from others, 
when their spirits had departed a 
spot doubly consecrated by the tears 
and prayers of surviving relatives and 
friends. Most of these graves were 
marked by head stones ; some of these 
have been broken ; those that remain 
are inscribed as follows : 









OK Gl. A! 

DIED APRIL 24. 1797, 
AGED 74. 




AUG'ST 2ND, 1793, 







DEC'R 9Tir, 1792, 





I,E 9rn OF MAK., 1792, 


In 1795, Nicholas Cools Godefroy, 
from Castrie in the island of St. Lucia, 
in the West Indies, came to Newburj-- 
port in a vesse.1 commanded by Capt. 
John Coombs. He was accompanied 
by his youngest son, 'Moise Jacques 
Dupree Cooles Godefroy, who was born 
in Bordeaux, France, in 1785, and 
about twenty negro slaves, house ser- 
^ants, and families from his plantation. 
The oldest son, Jacques Mane Cools 
Godefroy, had previously come to Bal- 
timore. This family of exiles com- 
menced housekeeping in a house near 
the head of Federal street ; but, aged 
and infirm, torn from home and friends, 
the exhausted fugitive turned his face 
to the wall and died, surviving scarcely 
a week from the day of his landing. 
A will is on record in Salem, which was 
proved Dec. 28, 1795, by which the 
plantation in the island of St. Lucia 
was bequeathed to the eldest son, and 
a large sum of money to the youngest, 
to whom Capt. Coombs was appointed 
guardian, and in whose family he found 
a home. The negroes, now free, went 
to service in Oldtown, where the jovial 
faces, woolly heads and glistening 
ivory of the little darkies, and their 
frolicsome pranks, attracted much no- 
tice. They and their parents are still 
remembered by some aged persons. 
Owing to a wrong translation of the 

will of his father which was written in 
French, the lad, Moise Cooles Godefroy, 
was defrauded of a portion of his in- 
heritance ; the household effects were 
sold plate engraved with the family 
arms, clothing and linen. Nothing of 
this personal property has descended in 
the family, with the exception of one 
solitary counterpne, made from a 
dress of Madam Nicholas Cooles God- 
efroy, who had died some years previ- 
ous to her husband's exile. In 1810 
Jacques Mane Cooles Godefroy, visited 
his brother previous to his return to 
the plantation in St. Lucia. He pre- 
sented Moise with nearly a thousand 
dollars to stock his store on State 
street, and made a will in his favor, 
which was deposited with Bishop 
Chevereux in Boston, who was ap- 
pointed the executor. He died a 
few years after, at his home in St. 
Lucia. A short time after, to his 
surprise, Moise Cooles Godefroy re- 
ceived a notification from Bishop Chev- 
eraux, purporting that a priest and a 
lawyer had arrived in Boston, bringing 
with them a second and later will made 
by Jacques Cooles Godefroy shortly 
before his decease, by which his estate 
was willed to the church. roof was 
wanting to controvert this second will, 
which the descendants have supposed 
forged or obtained from a mind weak- 
ened by disease. Sam L. Knapp, esq. 
was employed by Moses Cooles Gode- 
froy, but nothing was effected, and the 
despoiled heir, under the plain English 
name of Moses Cole, continued his bus- 
iness on State street. He married 
Miss Sally Avery from York, Maine, 
and reared a large family. Mr. Cole 
possessed a fine talent for portrait 
painting, which he delighted to culti- 
vate. His sitters were counted amongst 



our most prominent citizens, and many 
of his portraits are extant. I have 
mentioned that he was an adept in 
framing the paintings and wrought 
pictures of the young ladies of New- 
buryport. On Monroe's visit to this 
town, unknown to the president, Mr. 
Cole sketched a fine likeness of him 
while he was at the dinner table. This 
artistic talent descended in his family ; 
three of the sons chose art as a profes- 
sion. Joseph and Charles, both de- 
ceased, were noted painters, and Mr. 
Lyman Cole's pictures are well known 
in this vicinity. Mr. Moses Cole was 
a sufferer by the great fire of 1811, 
losing both his dwelling house on Mid- 
dle street, and his store on State street. 
He died in 1849, aged 65. His widow, 
Salh* (Avery) Cole, survived many 
years, dying Oct. 23, 1874, at the ad- 
vanced age of 92 years. 
The Godefroy arms are : 





The remains of Nicholas Cooles 
Godefroy lie with his countrymen, in the 
valley oa burying hill, but no stone 
marks the grave. 

Anthony and Mary Le Breton wore 
born in the city of Nantes, France. 

They had thirteen children. Stephen 
Le Breton their eldest child emigrated 
to the West Indies, and settled -in 

Pierre Le Breton was born in Nantes, 
Oct. 17, 1745, being the youngest of 
thirteen children, receiving his name 
from his paternal grandfather. When 
he was about fifteen years old, he took 
French leave of his parents and home, 
and went to join his brother Stephen, 
of whom he was very fond. His 
brother sent him immediately back to 
France. As a punishment for this es- 
capade, his father placed him an ap- 
prentice to a cabinet maker ; here he 
learned the use of tools, which ever af- 
ter was a source of pleasure to him. 
When they thought him sufficiently 
punished, his parents consented to his 
joining his brother. - At the age 61 
twenty he was the owner of a large 
plantation and a number of slaves 
When about twent}--one he became 
very ill, pronounced in a consumption, 
and his physicians, for a change of -air, 
advised a trip to New England. Capt. 
William Noyes, the husband of my 
great-aunt Mollie Smith, was at the 
island in a fine new ship, and with him 
young Le Breton took passage. This 
Capt. Noyes had lost one of his hands ; 
he was the one so long confined in 
Dartmoor prison during the Revolu- 
tionary war ; it was his hat that fur- 
nished the braid by which my aunt Sa- 
rah Smith learned to braid straw. 
Capt. Noyes and his passenger became 
firm friends, and upon their arrival in 
Newburyport, the captain took the 
young Frenchman home to his house 
on Liberty street, where lie remained 
boarding in the family until he entirely 
recovered his health. Pierre LeBre- 
ton often accompanied Captain and 



Mrs. Noyes in their visits to the Smith 
homestead on Crane-neck hill. I have 
often heard rrry aunt Sarah speak of 
his appearance as most striking. A 
pale, fair complexion, deep, bine eyes 
shaded by long, black lashes, and dark, 
chestnut hair waving in curls about his 
face and neck. A large garden was 
attached to Capt. Noyes' house, and 
there Pierre delighted to resort. In an 
adjoining garden, belonging to a Mr. 
Pearson, the }'oung foreigner often ob- 
served a young lady busy among the 
flowers ; he soon formed an acquaint- 
ance, and became deeply interested in 
her. This interest combined with his 
friendship for the Noyes family, and 
his strong liking for the town of New- 
buryport, induced him to dispose of 
his plantation in Guadaloupe and set- 
lle here. This was done against his 
parents' and brother Stephen's advice 
and entreaties. Not being acquainted 
with business, he had not been long in 
the country before he lost all his prop- 
erty. This event was such a surprise 
that ever after he lived in a state of 
expectancy and preparation for a simi- 
lar occurrence. 

He had now to commence life anew, 
and went to his old friend, to whom he 
was very strongly attached, for advice. 
This turned his attention to navigation. 
He sailed with Capt. Noyes until he 
became both ship master and owner. 
Having secured a competence, again 
become a rich man, he built the house 
on Middle street, on the corner of Fair, 
opposite the Universalist church, with 
a shop attached, that in case he should 
lose property he might in some measure 
be prepared for it. This calamity, so 
greatly feared, never occurred. The 
great fire of 1811 burned to his house 
and there stopped. 

Having accumulated a fortune, and 
built his house, he determined to marry. 
All this time he had entertained an in- 
terest in Miss Elisabeth Pearson, and 
having ascertained that this affection 
was mutual, after great opposition from 
her parents on account of his being a 
foreigner, they were married in 1776. 
Their children were Peter and Elisa- 
beth LeBreton. Mrs. LeBreton died, 
of typhoid fever, taken from her hus- 
band, Dec. 27, 1781, aged thirty-six 
3 r ears. 

After remaining three }-ears a wid- 
ower, Mr. LeBreton married Miss 
Elizabeth Sawyer, on the 20th of 
March, 1784. They had one child who 
died in infancy. At the time of this 
marriage, a sister of Elizabeth, Eunice 
Sawyer, was taken into and made one 
of the family, and on his decease, Mr. 
LeBreton bequeathed to her a sufficient 
maintenance during her life. This 
property Eunice willed back to the 
LeBreton family, but, by some inform- 
ality in the will, it went to the Sawyer 
relatives. Mr. and Mrs. LeBreton 
adopted the daughter of her eldest sis- 
ter Eunice Couch ; the}* also adopted the 
first grandchild, Peter LeBretou, when 
he was two }*ears old. Capt LeBre- 
ton was a generous, genial gentleman, 
the soul of hospitality and good humor. 

One morning, Mr. Moses Colman 
was called to his door, where he found 
a strange woman whose home he failed 
to enquire, offering a pig for sale. 
She was on horseback, her wares in 
pannier baskets. Mr. Colman did not 
need the pig but the little fellow looked 
so cunning, peeping from the basket, 
that the old gentleman, fond of pets, 
concluded the bargain, and the small 
porker was placed in the pen, where he 
became the distinguished sire of the 



famous By field breed of swine. This 
caused Mr. Colman's pork to be in 
great demand. Capt. LeBreton having 
purchased a pig for family use, David 
Emery, then a lad in his teens, took it 
ta the house, where it was carried to 
the kitchen to be cut up. Through his 
father Colman, David had formed the 
acquaintance of Capt. LeBreton, with 
whom he was a favorite. One o'clock 
came, the dinner bell sounded. A sum- 
mons was sent for David ; the youth 
hesitated ; he wore only his common 
suit under his frock : to dine with Capt. 
LeBreton he ought to be dressed in his 
Sunday best, but the old gentleman step- 
ping into the kitchen, in his most per- 
emptory manner ordered David to take 
off his frock and follow him. The 
bountiful repast over, wine was served 
with dessert, and little Peter, then 
scarcely able to talk plain, was told to 
drink to the guest. The little fellow 
bashfully demurred, at which the old 
gentleman exclaimed, "Peter, mine 
grandson, be a little gentleman, and 
diink Monsieur Emery's health directly. 
The tiny glass was filled, and little Pe- 
ter drank with due etiquette. Mr. Em- 
ery was so much amused that he often 
related the story. 

Capt. Le Breton was exceedingly lib- 
eral to his workmen. Every Saturday 
night those in his employ received a 
piece of meat for their Sunday dinner. 
For years the Captain bought his meat 
of Mr. Emery. Amongst the steve- 
dores was an Irishman by the name of 
Murray. The master alwaj's superin- 
tended the giving out of the meat to 
his men, and in his fuun3 r way he 
would say: "Cut dat for Murray, Da- 
vid, he 'ave one hard tooth." 

This Murray had a wife, a most 
worthy woman, who worked for me for 

years on Monday, for a quarter of a 
dollar and a basket of cold victuals : 
and on Saturday she scoured the brass- 
es, candlesticks, stairs and floors, did 
the day's cleaning, receiving therefor, 
with much gratitude, her bundle of ed- 
ibles, and the coffee grounds which for 
a long period were daily poured into a 
pitcher for her use. 

Capt. LeBreton's good humored gen- 
erosity was often subjected to imposi- 
tion. One day he came to the sham- 
bles, and with a jovial face and in gaj* 
tones, said, "David, yesterday I gave 
one leetle bo}~ a pair of shoes ; dis 
mornin' half a dozen leetle boys come 
shoof, shoof, shoof, after me. What 
did it mean ? Wanted shoes, hey ! Too 
moosh, too moosh, David, but I shod 
the rogues, I shod every garcon, Da- 
vid," ending his recital with a hearty 
laugh, rubbing his hands together in 
great glee. 

In 1807, Etienne LeBretagne, Capt. 
LeBreton's eldest arid best beloved 
brother, Stephen, made him a visit, 
and was much pleased with the coun- 
try and people, and declared, "if he had 
been a 3'ounger man he would remove 
himself and family, and finish his days 
here with his brother." Two other 
brothers visited him, one of whom set- 
tled in the city of New Orleans, the 
other in some part of New Jersey. 

Capt. LeBreton was a Catholic. In 
performance of a vow he presented the 
First Religious societ}* of Xewburyport 
with the pair of tall silver tankards, 
used in the sacramental service. 

Pierre LeBreton died in Newbury- 
port, from gout in the stomach, Febru- 
ary "24, 1813, aged 67 years. 

Peter LeBreton, the only son of 
Capt. LeBreton, married Tabitha Lew- 
is of Marblehead, Sept., 1800. Their 



oldest son. Peter, adopted by his grand- 
father, at his death received property 
independent of his father. Peter Le- 
Brcton 3d, married in 1823, Sarah E., 
daughter of Tristram Chase, of the 
Chase farm, Meeting-house hill, West 

Elisabeth LeBreton, the oldest daugh- 
ter, married Henry Johnson in 1825. 
This lady died at the age of twenty- 
one, leaving an infant ten days old. 

Mary Anthony, the second daughter 
of Peter LeBreton, jun., named by 
her grandfather for his father and 
mother, Marie Antoine LeBretagne, 
married Henrj* Johnson, May, 1826. 

Edmund Lewis LeBreton, the sec- 
ond son, married Lucy Oliver, daugh- 
ter of Dr. Prescott, September, 1829. 

Stephen LeBreton, the third son of 
Peter LeBreton, jun., died unmarried, 
Nov. 4, 1834. 

Caroline Lewis, the third daughter, 
married John Stephen Bartlett, July, 
1832. John Stephen Bartlett, M. D., 
died in M*arblehead, March 6, 1840: 
his widow married Capt. William Ham- 
mond of Marblehead, Ma}-, 1842. 

The fourth son, George Washington 
LeBreton, was shot by an Indian in 
Oregon, and died from inflammation, 
March G, 1844, aged 32 years. 

Charlotte, youngest daughter of Pe- 
ter LeBreton, jun., married John James 
Coombs, August, 1835. 

Elisabeth LeBreton, only daughter 
of ('apt. Peter and Elisabeth (Pearson) 
LeBreton, was born Nov. 28, 1786. 
Her mother died when she was but two 
years old. ] ler grandmother and aunts 
who lived in the next house, cared for 
her until her father's second marriage, 
in 1784, to Elisabeth Sawyer, who 
made herself beloved, not only to the 

father, the children, and the Pearson 
family, but to all who knew her. 

Elisabeth LeBreton married Captain 
David Stickney, in 1802. They had 
four children ; Elisabeth LeBreton, 
Hannah Lee, Peter LeBreton, and Ma- 
ry Thurston Stickney. Capt. Stickney 
died February, 1820. The widow 
Stickney married the Rev. Henry C. 
Wright, then pastor of the society in 
first parish in West Newbury, in 1826. 

Eunice Couch, the niece adopted by 
Captain and Mrs. LeBreton, married 
David Rogers. She died in Cincinnati, 
aged 30 years. 

Mrs. Elisabeth (Saw3'er) LeBreton 
died May 4, 1822, aged 74 years. 


The first meeting-house in Newbury 
was built on the lower green in Old- 
town, but in 1642, a majority of the 
population having moved farther up on 
the Merrimac, a new house of worship 
was erected. This removal caused 
much opposition and contention, but in 
1642 "there was granted to Mr. James 
Noyes, four acres of land upon the hill, 
by the little pine swamp, upon which to 
set the meeting-house." Of this struc- 
ture I have no record, excepting that 
the canopy of the pulpit was presented 
to the new society in the west precinct, 
after the erection of their meeting- 
house, the first parish having built a 
new sanctuary, in the year 1 700. 

I distinctly remember this building, 
the spire and high pointed roof being 
plainly visible from Crane-neck hill. 
It was a square edifice of two stories, 
with front and side entrances, the high 



four-sided roof terminated at the apex 
in a dome-shaped belfry, surmounted 
by a high, pointed spire, crowned by a 
copper weathercock. The principal en- 
trance opened into a broad aisle, which 
led to the high pulpit, with the sounding- 
board above, the deacon's seat beneath, 
and the communion table in front. Two 
short cross aisles led from the side doors. 
(4-alleries ran round three sides of the 
house. The -'singing seats" were op- I 
posite the pulpit ; the side galleries were j 
filled with benches, and a larger part of 
the lower floor. Space was appropri- 
ated for pews, and permission granted 
to about twenty persons to build them. 
It was voted, '"that a pew be built for 
the minister's wife by the pulpit stairs ; 
that Colonel Daniel Pierce esquire 
should have the first choice of a pew 
and Major Thomas Noyes the second, 
and Colonel Daniel Pierce esquire, and 
Tristram Coffin esquire, be impowered 
to procure a bell of about four hundred 
pounds weight." 

The inscription on this bell, was "let 
us love as brethren, Mathew Bayle^y 
fundet 1705." It was ordered "that 
this bell be rung at nine o'clock every 
night and the da}- of the month be 

As the belfry was just above the 
centre of the ceiling, the bell rope de- 
pended therefrom, and the bell-ringer 
stood in the broad aisle to perform his 

The Rev. John Woodbridge, the suc- 
cessor of Messrs. Parker and Noyes. 
died in 1695. The next clerg3'man was 
the Rev. John Richardson : his succes- 
cessor, the Rev. Christopher Toppan. 
who died in 1747 ; he was followed b}- 
the Rev. John Tucker ; the last clergy- 
man to minister through his pastorate 
in the old meeting house wa$ the Rev. 

Abraham Moore, a fine speaker and a 
man of superior literary attainments ; 
he died in 1801, and the Rev. John 
Popkin was ordained in 1804. In 
1806 a new house was built ; this 
structure many of our readers still re- 
member. On May 4, Dr. Popkin 
preached for the last time in the old 
building ; May 6th, it was torn down. 

On the 1 6th of June there was a to- 
tal eclipse of the sun ; the obscuration 
commenced about ten o'clock, and in 
half an hour stars were visible ; the 
birds flew to, the trees, and the fowl 
sought their roosts. On this day the 
sills of the new meeting house were 
laid, and it was dedicated on the 
seventeenth of September. The rais- 
ing and dedication were days of jubi- 
lee, "in which great crowds thronged to 

By the year 1685, what was termed 
the west precinct, or the new town, had 
acquired so large a population, that the 
inhabitants, being such a distance from 
the meeting house, began to consider 
the expediency of forming a second 
parish, and erecting a house of worship 
in a more convenient locality. March 
10, a petition was sent to the town of 
Newbury, "the humble request of 
some of the inhabitants of this town, 
doe desire and entreat, that you would 
be pleased to grant us your consent, 
approbation and assistance in getting 
some help in the ministry amongst us, 
by reason that we doe live soe remote 
from the means, great part of us, that 
we cannot with ai\y comfort and con- 
venience come to the public worship of 
God ; neither can our families be 
brought up under the means of grace as 
Christians ought to bee. and which is 
absolutely necessary unto salvation ; 
therefore we will humbly crave your 



loving compliance with us in this our 
request." This petition commenced a 
contest which lasted for several years, 
which shows that the men of " ye good 
old times" were subject to like pas- 
sions and prejudices as those of more" 
modern days. 

In 1688, Joseph Moring bequeathed, 
in his will, twenty pounds to the " new 
town" in Newbury, to help build a 
meeting-house. The next year, 1869, 
sixteen persons erected a meeting-house 
about thirty feet square, at the plains. 
In the February following, the town 
appointed a committee of eight per- 
sons to confer with the Rev. Mr. Rich- 
ardson respecting the propriety of the 
west-end people calling a minister. Mr. 
Richardson, anxious not to give of- 
fence, declined to express his opinion 
or give his advice. The committee re- 
ported, " that considering the times as 
troublesome, and the towne being so 
much behind with Mr. Richardson's sal- 
ary, the farmers and the neck men be- 
ing under great disadvantages upon 
many accounts, do desire and expect, 
if such a thing be granted, that the}' 
should have the same privilege to pro- 
vide for themselves, which we think 
cannot conduce to peace, therefore de- 
sire the new towue to rest satisfied for 
the present." 

At the town meeting in March, fif- 
teen men belonging to the west end, 
' w after stating that it was well known 
how far they had proceeded as to a 
meeting-house, left two propositions 
with the town ; one that the town 
would agree to support two ministers, 
so that one could preach at the west 
end meeting-house, or that the town 
would consent to have the ministry 
amongst them upon their own charge, 
and that the town would lovingly agree 

upon a dividing line between them so 
that they might know what families 
may now belong to the west meeting- 

The summer following, the inhabi- 
tants of the "new towne" began to 
consider respecting the calling of Mr. Ed- 
ward Tomsonto minister to them in spir- 
itual things. This elicited a vote by the 
town " against the settlement of Mr. 
Tomson or any other minister until ye 
church and towne are agreed upon it, 
looking upon such a thing as an intru- 
sion upon ye church and town." In 
October the people of the west end 
petitioned the general court, " to be es- 
tablished a people by themselves, for 
the maintenance of the ministry amongst 

In December, the town voted against 
this petition being granted, and chose 
a committee to present a counter peti- 
tion to the general court. In 1 692 the 
west end people again made a petition 
and proposition about calling a minis- 
ter. Dec. 20, the town voted that 
the} 7 would call another minister at the 
west end. On the 27th, a committee 
was chosen ' ' to enquire after a suitable 
person to preach at the west end and 
to keep schoole." In May, 1693, the 
town voted that Mr. John Clark be 
called to assist Mr. Richardson at 
the west end, and to keep a grammar 
school." This vote caused much 
dissension, as most of the west 
end people felt bound to adhere to Mr. 
Tomson. June 15, another petition 
was forwarded to the general court, in 
which the}- request the governor and 
council, " to pity and help them, to ease 
them of a heavy burden of travel on 
God's day." July 5th, "the town in 
their votes for the choice of a minister 
for the west end of the towne, in order 



to a full settlement in the work of the min- 
istry. and Mr. John Clark was then cho- 
sen and not one vote against him." Twen- 
ty-five persons of the west end entered 
their dissent against calling Mr. Clark, 
" for the reason that the new towne 
have a minister alread}-." Mr. Clark 
declined the call, and Mr. Christopher 
Toppan was invited to preach at the 
" new towne." Mr. Toppan declined 
to settle, but expressing his willingness 
to help in the work of the ministry for 
a year, the town voted to give Mr. 
Toppan forty pounds in money, and 
four contributions a year. 

Oct. 22d, 1694, " the towne brought 
in'theyr votes by papers, fora minister 
for the west end of Newbury, and Mr. 
Christopher Toppan had sixty-five votes 
and Mr. Tomson seventeen. Jan. 1, 
1695, the town met and voted ; 'that Pipe- 
stave hill near Daniel Jaques' house 
shall be the place for the meeting-house, 
and those that live nearest to that 
place shall pay to the ministry there, 
and those that live nearest to the old 
meeting-house shall pay there ; the in- 
habitants of the west end to choose a 
minister for themselves, only Mr. Tom- 
son excepted, and the meeting-house 
to stand where it do, until the major 
part of them see cause to remove it." 

Jan. 3d, Tristram Coffin, Henry 
Short and Abraham Merrill, divided 
the town into two parishes. 

June 5th, "Town voted to give Mr. 
Christopher Toppan 20 pounds year- 
1}- in money, and three hundred pounds 
in good country pa}*, so long as he car- 
ries on one half of the ministry among 
them, and thirty pounds a year so long 
as he shall keep a grammar and a 
writing school, the scholars to pay as 
they did to Mr. John Clark Mr. Top- 

pan accepted these proposals July 

Dec. 18th. The town. *'on the re- 
quest of the inhabitants of the west 
end of the town of Xewbury, grunted 
them five acres of land on the east side 
of Artichoke river for a pasture for the 
ministry, and one acre of land near the 
west meeting house, and when the ma- 
jor part shall see cause to remove the 
said meeting house, the land shall be- 
at the disposal of the town to procure 
laud for the ministry, near the we>t 
meeting house when removed." 

Feb. 28th. 1696. A rate was made 
for payment of building and furnishing 
the west end meeting-house and ministry 
house. The expense was twenty-two 
pounds and three shillings in money, and 
two hundred and eighteen pounds, eigh- 
teen shillings and two pence in pay. 
This was due from sixty-four persons. 
Of this number twenty-four objected to 
the continuance of the meeting-house 
on the plains, being desirous that it 
should be removed farther up to Pipe- 
stave hill. These were Benjamin and 
Joseph Morse, Thomas, Daniel and 
Moses Chase, John senior and John 
jr., and Abial Kelley, Mr. Abraham 
Annis, Isaac and Joseph Richardson. 
Abel Huse, Caleb Moody. Benjamin 
Low, Tristram Greenleaf. Daniel Mor- 
rison, Edward Woodman. John Hoag, 
Hanariah Ordway. Thomas Follansbee, 
Lieut. John Emerson, Thomas Wil- 
liams, Francis Willet and Samuel Sa- 
yer jr., This dissent continued for 
years, the subject of strife thereafter 
being the site of the west end meeting- 

In April the Rev. Mr. Richardson 
died, and in September Mr. Christo- 
pher Toppan was ordained his succes- 
sor. That same year the Rev. Samuel 



Belcher with his family came to the 
west precinct. In October, 1698, a 
church was gathered and the Rev. Mr. 
Belcher was ordained on November 
10th. In January, 1706, the precinct 
voted ' ' that they either would remove 
the meeting-house and build an addi- 
tion to it, or else build a new meeting- 
house." February 28th, it was voted 
' k that ye inhabitants of 3-6 west end 
of the town of Newbury will build a 
new meeting-house upon Pipestave hill, 
fifty-four feet long, and thirty-four feet 
broad, within ye space of five years at 
ye furthest, and to meet in the old meet- 
ing-house five years, and not to force 
airy person to pay any money or pay 
till three years be expired, and then to 
pay one-quarter part yearly until ye 
whole be paid." From this vote twen- 
ty persons dissented. Captain Hugh 
March, Caleb Moody, and sergeant 
John Ordway were chosen a committee 
to build the new meeting-house, and 
the foundation was laid in 1709. In 
February the opposition at the plains 
petitioned the general court for relief, 
showing that only twelve years before 
the}' had built a meeting-house, and 
those now calling themselves the major- 
ity had been since planted in the upper 
part of the precinct, yet the majority 
had proceeded to levy a tax, and to 
employ a collector to take away their 
goods for the furtherance of their de- 
sign to erect the more remote house ; 
that the expense of another building 
would be a heavy burthen, necessitat- 
ing them to lose the charge to which 
they had been put, besides frustrating 
the enjoyment of the means of grace 
for themselves and their children. If 
no other relief offered, they prayed to 
be set off, to maintain a minister and 
a ministry amongst themselves. This 

document was signed by fifty-five per- 
sons. eleven Bartlets, six Sawyers, 
three Merrills, four Browns, three Bai- 
leys, Charles and Joseph Annis, two 
Thurstons, two named Rogers, three 
Littles, and nineteen others. In the 
March town meeting of the next year, 
the inhabitants of the precinct voted 
''that they accepted of what was al- 
ready done, and authorized the major 
part of the committee (who were cho- 
sen in 1706, February twenty-eighth) to 
proceed and finish the meeting-house 
according to the time mentioned in 
said vote." 

On June 2d, a notification from the 
general court was served on the town 
of Newbury, by some of the west end 
petitioners. June 7th, the town chose 
Col. Thomas Noyes to act in their be- 
half. This gentleman decided that the 
major part could not be aggrieved by 
putting down the old, or putting up 
the new meeting-house ; he concluded 
by saying, "the whole of the western 
precinct, assemble in a house not above 
thirty feet square, and yet rather than 
not have their wills they would have 
two churches." 

This produced a reply from the mi- 
nority, in which the}" state that they 
" have one hundred and thirty families, 
seventy of which do not live two miles 
from the old meeting-house." They 
confess to a desire to have their wills, 
in so far as they are not sparing of 
their purses for the propagation of 
the gospel for themselves, and partic- 
ularly for their children, and if it is 
more convenient to obtain this good 
end, they had rather have two church- 
es and two meeting-houses, and they, 
petitioned the court to this end. This 
petition was not granted, and it was 
resolved in council, that Pipestave hill 



was the most convenient place, and a 
committee was appointed to wait upon 
the Rev. Mr. Belcher and acquaint him 
with the desire of the court, that when 
a meeting-house should be erected 
there, and convenient dwelling house, 
with suitable accommodation of land, 
he be content to remove thither. 

Determined not to worship in the 
meeting-house on Pipestave hill, twen- 
ty-seven of the petitioners signed the 
following : 

" July ye 12th, 1710. 

We whose names Are hereto Sub- 
scribed doo Agree And oblidge our- 
sealves to each other to mayntain the 
publick ministry At the old meeting- 
house in 3*6 west precinct in Xewbury, 
Although we are forsed to pa} T Else- 
where what shall be lavid upon us." 

On the next day the inhabitants of 
the west end held a meeting, and voted 
to " observe the direction and resolve 
of the general court." On July 17th 
the} 7 held another meeting, in which 
they voted to ' ' levy a tax of four hun- 
dred pounds to defray part of the charg- 
es of building a meeting-house, minis- 
try house, and so forth, to pay back all 
they had taken by distraint, and to con- 
firm all that the building committee 
chosen in 1706 had done, and gave 
them full power to finish." 

On the 19th of April, 1711, the pre- 
cinct had another meeting, and. as the 
time of five years during which they 
had determined to meet in the old meet- 
ing-house had expired, the majority pro- 
ceeded to earn" the remainder of the 
vote into execution. A committee of 
three was chosen, to dispose of the min- 
istry house and land near the old meet- 
ing-house, and obtain a house and land 
near the ne\ meeting-house at Pipe- 
stave hill. It was also voted " to take 
the seates and boards and glass out of 

3"e old meeting-house to be improved in 
the new meeting-house, and also to re- 
move the old meeting-house and sett it 
up att Pipestave hill to be improved as 
a barn for the ministry in convenient 

Of course this vote but added fuel to 
the flame. The minority firmly resist- 
ed every attempt at removal of the 
Plains " meeting-house. One night in 
the first of the summer, a party came 
down from the upper part of the parish, 
and in a disorderly and riotous manner 
tore down the old meeting-house and 
carried it off. The minority*, being as 
determined not to submit as the major- 
ity were to govern, immediately began 
the erection of another house of wor- 
ship. To frustrate this undertaking, 
in July a committee of six persons 
petitioned the general court to stay the 
proceedings. The court directed that 
the ' k ra}'sing of the meeting-house be 
delayed until there be a hearing of the 
matter before the court." 

Xo attention was paid, by the mi- 
nority, to this order. This caused 
another petition against them, in which 
it was stated that the minority had 
"raised and part covered a meeting- 
house, and set it near the dividing line, 
notwithstanding the advice and direc- 
tion of the court." 

The court immediate!}' ordered "that 
Samuel Bartlet, John Ordway, Deacon 
Joshua Brown, Joshua Bailey. Skipper 
Lunt and Penuel Titcomb, be anew 
served by the sheriff with a process 
and order of this court, strictly forbid- 
ding them and their associates proceed- 
ing in the work of their intended meet- 
ing-house, and that said persons be 
summoned to attend the fall session of 
the court." 

On the 23d of October, 1711, the 



minority again petitioned the court for 
leave to go on with their meeting- 
house. "That the farthermost of forty 
families, and about thirty more of our 
neighbors are not above one and a half 
miles from the meeting-house we are 
about to erect, and that we deem it a 
duty to maintain the Rev. Mr. Belcher, 
(for whom we have a peculiar respect) , 
until he may be orderly dismist." 
They also requested the court ' ' to set 
them off as a precinct, making Arti- 
choke river the dividing line, as there 
are now ninety-six families above Arti- 
choke river." The court considered 
that there was no present necessity for 
this new precinct and church, and or- 
dered that the building of the house be 
no further proceeded with. No regard 
being paid to this order, the court sent an 
express to forbid the work. Several 
gentlemen went to Boston to show 
their grievances, but obtained no relief; 
there they met a Mr. John Bridger of 
Portsmouth. This gentleman was "sur- 
veyor of the king's woods," and a 
churchman. He informed the New- 
bury party that the Church of England 
would protect them if they would put 
themselves under its control. He vis- 
ited Newbury, and told the "plains" 
people that if they would convert their 
intended meeting-house into a church, 
he would ensure them the protection of 
the governor. 

Some were somewhat acquainted with 
the church ; after the perusal of several 
Episcopal books, a consent was given, 
and the Rev. Henry Harris, who had 
been sent from England to minister at 
King's Chapel, Boston, came and 
preached to them. This gentlemen 
was the father of Mr. Benjamin Harris 
for whom Harris street is named. At 
the time of his coming, when a ship ar- 

rived from England it was customary 
for persons expecting friends to go to the 
wharf to meet them on their landing. 
Amongst the throng assembled on this 
occasion was a young lady, whose 
glance riveted that of the handsome 
missionary ere the ship reached the 
landing. This "love at first sight" 
was soon followed by the marriage of 
the j-outhful pair. 

Mr. Harris sent a Mr. Lampton, the 
chaplain of a station ship, to preach at 
the Plains. Some went to the meeting 
at Pipestave hill, but the majority em- 
braced the doctrines of the Church of 
England. Thus the Episcopal society 
was formed, and the church completed, 
under the designation of Queen Ann's 
Chapel. In May, 1715, the Rev. Hen- 
ry Lucas, of London, was appointed 
their rector. The bishop of London 
presented a bell to the society. This 
bell afterwards became memorable as 
an object of contention between the so- 
ciety at Belleville and that of St. Paul's. 
A large silver christening basin was 
presented by Capt. Richard Brown, a 
native of England, who came to New- 
buryport from the West Indies. He 
married a Miss Hudson. Capt. Daniel 
Marquand married his widow, from 
whom are the descendants of that 
name and one family of Jenkins. He 
was interred in the cemetery on the 
Plains. The communion service con- 
sisted of a flagon, inscribed: "The 
gift of K. William and Q. Mary to the 
Rev. Samuel Myles, for the use of their 
Majesties' Chappell in New England, 
1694," and a chalice with the inscrip- 
tion : " Ex dono Johannis Mills 1693." 
This plate, in good preservation, is now 
in use at St. Paul's church. In 1720 
Mr. Lucas died, and the Rev. Matthias 
Plant, a graduate of Jesus College, 



Cambridge, England, succeeded in the 

As early as 1725, the church people 
dwelling at the water side formed the 
idea of building a new church, but the 
' Plains " people being unwilling to 
join them, nothing was done until 1738. 
Then, the Rev. Mr. Plant and Joseph 
Atkins, esq., each having offered to 
present fifty pounds towards building a 
new church at the " Port," the founda- 
tion of one was laid at the head of 
Queen, now Market street. The church 
was not completed until 1740. It was 
arranged that Mr. Plant should officiate 
at both churches. This caused some 
difficult}*, which was happily settled. 
In 1751 Mr. Edward Bass was chosen 
to assist Mr. Plant, who died in 1753. 
For a while a monthly service was held 
in Queen Ann's Chapel, but. as time 
passed, this gradually became discon- 
tinued, and the building fell into deca}% 

The Rev. Edward Bass, though ad- 
vanced to the bishopric of Massachu- 
setts, still continued to officiate at St. 
Paul's church. He died the 10th of 
September, 1803, and the Rev. James 
Morse was settled the November fol- 

In 1800 the present church was built. 
I have a recollection of the old build- 
ing, which was small and painted light 
yellow. This church had been fur- 
nished with an organ, the first in the 
town. This organ is a noted instru- 
ment, being the oldest in America. It 
was built by J. Preston, in York. Eng- 
land. Having been detained in his 
workshop, it escaped destruction at the 
time of the pious raid upon organs in 
the churches b}' Cromwell's soldiers. 
At the commencement of the last cen- 
tury it was brought to Boston by 
Thomas Brattle, and presented to 

King's Chapel in that city, but so strong 
was the feeling in New England against 
anything savoring of popery that it re- 
mained a long time in the packing case 
in the porch. At length, in 1714. it 
was set up, and used for forty years. 
when it was bought by the societ}- of 
St. Paul's. In that church it sent forth 
its melody for more than two genera- 
tions. Some years since, a larger or- 
gan having been procured, the venera- 
ble relic was purchased by the society 
of St. John's church, in Portsmouth. 
N. H. When a girl, my mother at- 
tended St. Paul's to hear the novel in- 
strument. She was highly delighted 
with the music and much impressed by 
the service, and the grandeur of the 
Daltons, Atkins. Cutlers. Hoopers, 
Jacksons, John Tracy's, and other fam- 
ilies of ton who worshipped there. 

The corner-stone of the present 
church was laid with masonic ceremo- 
nies. The altar, aisles and gallery are 
as when built, but the first pews were 
roomy compartments, with high, pan- 
eled sides. The pulpit was peculiarly 
graceful, rising from a pillar and spread- 
ing like a wineglass. Above it hung a 
sounding-board, equally elegant in de- 
sign. Before the reading desk was a 
lower one for the clerk. Either side of 
the entrance to the broad aisle were 
two small pews, with high, ornamental 
partitions ; from the front corners of 
each to the right and left, uprose 'two 
tall, brightly-painted poles, terminating 
at the top by gilded balls. These pews 
were the seats for the church wardens, 
and the rods were the warden's poles, 
which in those days played no unim- 
portant part in the ceremonies of the 
service, being borne in state by the 
wardens, as, with majestic step, they 
preceded the bishop up the broad 



aisle upon his entrance into the 
church. They also did good service 
in the discipline of the more j-outh- 
ful worshippers the fear of a rap 
on the pate from these emblazoned 
poles being inculcated with becoming 
seriousness by the matrons of the so- 
ciety, as they marshalled their bright, 
frolicsome troops of boys and girls 
across the portals of the sacred edifice. 


The Rev. Samuel Belcher having be- 
come aged and infirm, returned to Ips- 
wich, his native place, where he died 
March 12th, 1715, universally mourned 
and esteemed. 

The Rev. John Tufts was ordained 
over the society at Pipestave hill in 
1714. Mr. Tufts possessed a fine taste, 
and, for those days, superior skill in 
music. To improve the singing in his 
choir and those of other churches, the 
3'ear after his settlement he published a 
small work on music, which was sold 
for sixpence a copy or five shillings per 
dozen. Few tunes were then used 
York, Hackne}*, St. Mary's, Windsor, 
and Martyrs, were the principal. In 
most congregations the singing was en- 
tirely b} T rote, which was considered 
papistical by the more rigid ; and Mr. 
Tuft's attempt to improve sacred music 
was a daring innovation that for a time 
met much opposition. 

In January, 1716, the church in the 
west precinct kept a day of humiliation 
and prayer, to petition that God would 
' ' prevent the spread of errors in the 
place, especially the error of quakers." 
The causes that had driven some into 

episcopacy had led others to join the 
"Friends." The sons of Mr. John 
Hoag having embraced the doctrines of 
that sect, others became interested 
and meetings were held at private 
houses. The first of these gatherings 
was at the dwelling of Mr. Samuel 
Sa}*er. A societj" was formed, which, 
in the summer of 1744, erected a meet- 
ing-house on a site nearly opposite the 
present Belleville church. 

On Feb. 26th, 1738, a council was 
called, in the west parish, to consider 
' ' the distressed state and condition of 
ye second church of Christ in Newbury, 
by reason of the reverend pastor, Mr. 
John Tufts, being charged by a woman, 
or women, of his indecent carriage, 
also of his abusive and unchristian be- 
havior towards them at several times, 
and so forth." 

This council consisted of ten clergy- 
men and twenty delegates. Mr. Tufts 
refused to unite with the council and 
opposed the swearing of witnesses, and 
immediately asked his dismission, which 
was granted, the church refusing to 
give him a recommendation elsewhere . 
He was succeeded by Thomas Barnard, 
who was dismissed in 1751. The Rev. 
Moses Hale was ordained the same 
year. He married Mehitable Dummer, 
and was the only pastor, amongst the 
long list of those that have been or- 
dained over this society, who spent his 
life among his people. He died in 

The meeting-house on Pipestave hill 
had become somewhat dilapidated ; by 
the setting off of the fourth parish, it 
was no longer in a central locality ; 
then, many objected to climbing the 
long hill. As expensive repairs were 
necessary, it was proposed to move the 
building a quarter of a mile below on 



the main road, at the corner of the one 
leading to the river. This raised a 
storm of objections, but finally, in 1758, 
the seventh year of Mr. Hale's pas- 
torate, the plan was effected. The 
house, which was a good-sized struc- 
ture, without a tower, was repaired and 
remodeled. The parsonage, which lay 
below on Pipestave hill, was retained 
by the parish for some years. It is 
still standing in good preservation. 

The Rev. True Kimball was settled 
in 1782, and dismissed in 1797. His 
successor, the Rev. Samuel Tomb, 
was ordained the next year. He was 
dismissed in 1808, the same year that 
Dr. Woods left the fourth parish for 
the seminaiy at Andover. Great scan- 
dal had been raised in the "parish re- 
specting Parson Tomb's ill treatment 
of a little girl, bound as a servant in 
his family. It was alleged that, being 
unmercifully whipped for every slight 
offence, to screen herself, the child be- 
came an adept at deceit. To punish 
her for lying, the minister, it was said, 
tied her tongue to her great toe. Such 
discontent was aroused that the rever- 
end gentleman asked a dismission, 
which was granted, though many of the 
society discredited the stories about 
him. My father would not accept Dr. 
Woods' ministry ; after the Slade meet- 
ing-house at Byfield was closed he at- 
tended service at the lower parish. 

After Mr. Tomb's departure the 
pulpit was for a time supplied by a Mr. 
Hull. A part of the society, in which 
my father was included, were much 
pleased with Parson Hull's preaching, 
declaring it to be good Arminian doc- 
trine, but the more Calviuistic portion. 
who were a majorit}-, pronounced it 
tame and unsound. Old Mr. Ben. 
Poore (father of Dr. Poore) in his most 

emphatic manner, declared, " His name 
is Hull and he was hull indeed." In 
consequence Mr. Hull did not receive a 
a call, and the Rev. Ebenezer Hubbard 
was ordained in May, 1809. Persons 
at that time were assessed for the sup- 
port of the gospel according to their 
property. My father had paid the 
3'ear's tax at the lower parish. To- 
wards spring, to his surprise, the col- 
lector of the upper parish also present- 
ed a bill. Father produced the one he 
had paid, but the collector, Mr. Baile}-, 
said : k ; The law required every one to 
pay in his own parish unless they at- 
tended on the worship of a different 
sect. As the lower paiish was Congre- 
gationalist, as well as the upper, he 
must pay a tax to the society in the 
parish where he resided." Father re- 
fused to comply with the demand, and 
Mr. Bailey took two of our best cows 
from the barnyard and drove them 
down the lane. Mother cried, but 
father laughed and sat down to dinner. 
When the meal was over we saw the 
cows standing b}* the cow 4 yard bars, 
and nothing more was done about the 
tax bill. Uncle Enoch Little invited 
father to take a seat in his pew at the 
Baptist meeting-house in Xew Rowley, 
which he did. As, after Parson Woods 
left, the services in our parish were ir- 
regular, mother or some of the family 
generally accompanied him. After a 
while it became the settled place of 
worship, and, in later years, my mother 
united with that church. 

As the service in Queen Ann's Chap- 
el became gradually discontinued, a 
new Cougregationalist society was 
formed in that quarter. For a time, 
with the permission of the Episcopal 
society, they occupied the old chapel, 
but after a while a small, plain build 



ing was put up, a little above Queen 
Ann's, and on Sept. 1, 1762, the Eev. 
Oliver Noble was ordained. Father 
Noble, as he was commonly styled, was 
a somewhat eccentric character. With 
a quick eye and read}' wit at barter and 
sale, he could turn an honest penny 
with any one ; and, as his congregation 
was small, and it was not easy to raise 
even the limited stipend to which he 
was entitled, it was convenient to eke 
out a living \)\ his own exertions. 
Some few years after his settlement his 
wife died, and the bereaved husband 
preached her funeral sermon, which he 
had printed. Stuffing his saddle bags, 
he mounted his old horse, known as 
"Noble's frame," and proceeded to 
peddle his sermon over the country. 
My father, then a lad, in after years 
used to give a laughable description of 
his visit at Crane-neck. He rode 
rode up one warm afternoon, hab- 
ited in a long, flowing, black flannel 
gown, and, with tears and piteous sighs, 
told his grief, ending by the presenta- 
tion of the sermon, which was pur- 
chased, with sympathetic condolence, 
while, at the same time, warning glanc- 
es were threateningly cast to Jim and 
the other bo}-s and girls who were 
snickering in the background. 

At the time of the depreciation of 
the continental money, two gentlemen 
in Bradford having obtained an inkling 
of the probable state of the market, 
held a consultation respecting the best 
method of ridding themselves of a 
quantity of bills which the c y held. It 
was suggested b}' one, that they should 
ride down to Father Noble's, and trade 
off the currency for some land that 
the clergyman had for sale. "Grass- 
hopper plains" was warm, diy land, 
very suitable for early crops, and es- 

pecially good for corn. This plan was 
carried into effect. The Parson re- 
ceived his visitors with great urbanity ; 
he was not the man however to be be- 
hindhand in knowledge respecting pub- 
lic events, or business in general, and 
the trick which the gentlemen inten- 
ded to play, was instantly divined. 
Though the land on the plains had all 
the good qualities the Bradford man 
had mentioned, ever} y one at all con- 
versant with that locality knows that 
there are several acres back from the 
river consisting of sandy knolls, a 
somewhat singular conformation, which 
are almost worthless, would scarcely 
subsist a small number of the insects 
from which the plains derive their 
name. The Parson at that time had 
quite a lot of this land which he was 
desirous to put into a more profitable 
investment ; he was therefore willing to 
bargain, not too eager, but to accom- 
modate the gentlemen, after a time the 
purchase was eifected. Father Noble, 
shaking with inward chuckles, received 
the condemned bills, which before the 
news of their loss of value became 
general he disposed of very satisfac- 
torily. At the time of the purchase 
the land was covered with snow, and 
the gentlemen anxious to get rid of the 
notes, took but a cursory look, and had 
not been particular in enquiries respect- 
ing it. As the spring advanced some- 
how the story of the sale became bruit- 
ed about, and the would be biters 
were informed that the}- had been un- 
mercifully bitten. Accordingly they 
rode down to take a survey of the 
land. Scarcely liking the lay of it 
they went with their protest to the 
Parson. Father Noble was all fair 
and square. "He should be sorry to 
do anything wrong, he was to exchange 



the next Sunday with Parson Dutch : 
he would remain in Bradford over 
night, and Monday morning the gentle- 
men might call upon him and talk the 
matter over " Accordingly, on Sun- 
day Parson Noble appeared in the pul- 
pit of the Bradford meeting-house. 
The morning service passed as usual, 
but in the afternoon the congregation 
were favored by a specimen of pulpit 
eloquence which caused a universal sen- 
sation. The house was crowded, and 
knowing what was pending, an unusual 
expectancy was felt. The psalms and 
prayer over, the preacher with peculiar 
emphasis named his text : ' k I have 
bought a piece of ground, and I must 
needs go to see it." To see it was 
the pith of the discourse, which was so 
apt, and the would be deceit of the 
complainants was so deftly shown, that 
they turned all colors and writhed in 
their pews, while the rest of the audi- 
ence had much ado to preserve the de- 
corum proper for " Sabba' day." The 
next morning the two gentlemen rode 
over to the parsonage. As was cus- 
tomary, Parson Dutch produced the 
liquor case, sugar, hot water, pipes and 
tobacco. The quartette drank healths, 
smoked, conversed upon the weather, 
the crops, and the state of the country, 
but not a lisp was made respecting the 
land sale. Towards noon Father No- 
ble in his most genial manner, with fer- 
vent wishes for the temporal and spirit- 
ual welfare of his friends, bade them 
good morning, and wended his w&y 
down the main road, in -high esteem 
with himself and his grasshopper land 

A man like the Rev. Oliver Noble 
could not be expected to remain in a 
small parish like that at the Plains, 
neither was it probable that as a spirit- 

ual guide he gave universal satisfaction. 
He resigned his charge April 7, 1784. 
Afterwards he was settled in New Cas- 
tle. N. H., where he died in 1792, aged 

After his departure, preaching was 
for a time held irregularly in " Noble's 
meeting-house," but at length was 
wholly discontinued, and the old build- 
ing fell into decay ; finally, one stormy 
winter night it blew down. 

In 1807 a new society was formed in 
that locality, a new meeting-house erect- 
ed on High street, and the Rev. James 
Miltimore was settled in April. 1808. 

In 1702 the parish, afterwards called 
Byfield, was incorporated. This was 
taken from the towns of Rowley and 
Newbury, and at first was designated 
Rowlbury. Two years later it was 
named Byfield in honor of Judge Na- 
thaniel Byfield. The first pastor of 
the new parish was the Rev. Moses 
Hale ; he was succeeded by the Rev. 
Moses Parsons, who died in 1783. The 
Rev. Elijah Parish was ordained in 

The pastorate of the Rev. Mr. Par- 
sons was memorable for a contest be- 
tween the clergyman and one of the 
church officers, Deacon Benjamin Col- 
man, on the subject of slavery. At that 
time nearly every family owned one or 
more negro slaves. My great-grandfath- 
er Noyes had a man named Primus, of 
whom the grandchildren were especially 
fond. He was a church member and 
very much respected. As Dea. Noyes' 
favorite servant, Primus considered 
himself somewhat of an important per- 
sonage, and always comported himself 
with suitable dignity. My great-grand- 
father Smith owned a black maid ; 
great-grand sir Little a man ; this couple 
were married. The husband usually 



came to great-grandfather Smith's to 
sleep, but on very pleasant evenings 
the wife would go over to great-grand- 
sir Little's to visit her husband. The 
agreement at their marriage, between 
their owners, had been, if there were 
children to divide them. Two or three 
were born, but the}' were swept away 
with those of their masters, by the 
throat distemper, the year it made such 
ravage in New England. 

As Violet, the Rev. Mr. Parsons's 
woman, like most head servants in a 
large family, literally "ruled the 
roast," being a perfect autocrat in the 
kitchen, and a presiding genius in every 
department of the household, holding 
an affectionate but unquestioned sway 
over the bevy of bright, roguish boys 
that were reared in the parsonage, the 
zealous deacon could not have founded 
his complaint upon any but conscien- 
tious scruples. The principle of slave- 
ry was the sin against which he con- 
tended, thus unwittingly becoming pio- 
neer in a cause which has produced 
such momentous results. Church meet- 
ing after church meeting was held. 
The deacon was suspended for indecor- 
ous language respecting his pastor, and 
the discussion continued until after the 
clergyman's decease, when at a church 
meeting on the 26th of October, 1785, 
Deacon Colman, after having acknowl- 
edged, "that in his treatment of the 
Kev. Moses Parsons, the late worthy 
pastor of the church, he urged his ar- 
guments against the slaver}' of the Af- 
ricans with vehemence and asperity, 
without showing a due concern for his 
character and usefulness as an elder, 
or the peace and edicfiation of the 
church," he was restored to the church 
and the deacouship. 

In 1762 an academy building was 

erected, and a committee chosen in By- 
field parish to appoint a grammar school 
master, according to the will of Gov. 
Dummer. The academy was opened 
on Monday, Feb. 27, 1763. The Rev. 
Moses Parsons preached a sermon on 
the occasion from the text, " The 
liberal soul deviseth liberal things." 
The first preceptor, as previously sta- 
ted, was Mr. Samuel Moody. The 
school, by the Governor's will, was 
made free to the boys of the parish ; 
those from abroad paid the usual tuition. 
This academy immediately took rank 
with the first in the country a repu- 
tation which has been ably sustained. 

April 27, 1778, the inhabitants of 
Byfield were startled by a phenomenon 
usually termed the " Flying Giant." 
The following description is from the 
diary of Deacon Daniel Chute : 

"Yesterday, being the Lord's day, 
the first Sunday after Easter, about 
five of the clock in the p. m., a most 
terrible, and as most men do conceive 
supernatural thing took place. A form 
as of a giant, I suppose rather under 
than over twenty feet high, walked 
through the air from somewhere nigh 
the Governor's school, where it was 
first spied by some boys, till it past 
the meeting-house, where Mr. Whit- 
tain, who was driving home his cows, 
saw it, as well as the cows also, which 
ran violently bellowing. Sundry on 
the whole road from the meeting-house 
to Deacon Scarles' house, saw and 
heard it, till it vanished from sight nigh 
Hunslow's hill, as Deacon Searles saw. 
It strode so fast as a good horse might 
gallop, and two or three feet above the 
ground, and what more than all we ad- 
mired, it went through walls and fences 
as one goes through water, yet were 
the}' not broken or overthrown. It 
was black, as it might be dressed in 
cloth indeed, yet were we so terrified 
that none observed what manner if at 
all it was habited. It made continu- 



ally a tending scream, ' hoo, hoo,' so 
that some women fainted." 

The majority of the people, the Rev. 
Moses Parsons included, believed this 
spectre to be the devil taking a walk to 
oversee his mundane affairs. Deacon 
Benjamin Colman published an ac- 
count of this occurrence in the Essex 
Journal and New Hampshire Packet. 
This was in the midst of his controver- 
sy with Mr. Parsons on the slavery 
question, and he attributed the diabol- 
ical visitation to the heinous sin of 
slave-holding by the pastor of the par- 
ish, followed by quaint theological spec- 
ulations, in the deacon's strong and 
fearless style. 


In 1 725 the Third parish in Newbury 
erected a meeting-house at the water 
side, fronting on Fish street. Many 
entertained serious doubts of the desir- 
ability of this church. Mr. William 
Moody, writing to his brother, Judge 
Sewell in Boston, says: "Our people 
at towne are going to build another 
meeting-house, but intend to set it so 
nigh to Mr. Toppan's, that I fear it 
will make great contention." 

The new house was dedicated the 
20th of June; the Rev. John Tufts 
preached the sermon. On January 19, 
1726, the Rev. John Lowell was or- 
dained, the sermon was by the Rev. 
Thomas Foxcroft of Boston. 

The Lowles or Lowells are a very 
ancient family, dating back to the 
reign of Richard the Second. Mr. Per- 
cival Lowle, born in Yardley county, 
"Worcester, a merchant of Bristol, Eng- 

land, in 1639, with his two sons, John 
and Richard, came to Newbury, where 
John married his last wife, Naomi Syl- 
vester ; their youngest son, Ebenezer. 
went to Boston and became a mer- 
chant : he married Elisabeth Shale : 
their oldest son, the Rev. John Lowell. 
was born in Boston, March 14, 1704 ; 
Dec. 23, 1725, he married Sarah Champ- 
ney. After his ordination, Parson 
Lowell commenced housekeeping on 
Greenleaf's lane, now State street. 
After the clergyman's decease, the es- 
tate having been purchased by Mr. Na- 
thaniel Tracy for the site of a new 
mansion, the house was moved to Tem- 
ple street. Two sons were born to the 
young couple ; one died in infancj*, the 
other, the distinguished Judge Lowell, 
and his noted descendants, have a world 
wide reputation. 

The posterity of the other children 
of John and Richard Lowle are still 
numerous within the precincts of Old 
Newbury and the towns adjacent, prom- 
inent and respected citizens, while oth- 
ers of equal worth are settled in differ- 
ent sections of the country. 

Both Parson and Madam Lowell 
were assiduous in advancing the spirit- 
ual and intellectual welfare of the par- 

Notwithstanding the expense of build- 
ing a new meeting-house, the parish 
duplicated the town's appropriation for 
educational purposes, and in 1731 hired 
Mr. John Woodbridge to teach Latin 
to the youth of the parish, at sixt}- 
pounds a year ; scholars out of the 
parish were to pay fourpeuce or six 
cents a week. 

At that period the minister's lady 
was preeminently the head of feminine 
society. Her position was much more 
marked, and her duties far more on- 



erous than at present. As chief lady 
in the parish, and mistress of a house- 
hold distinguished for hospitality, Mad- 
am Lowell won encomiums from old 
and 3'oung, rich and poor. Possessing 
tact, quick perception, and decision of 
character, united to great skill and no- 
tability in domestic affairs, with rare 
culture and accomplishments for those 
days, her precept and example was well 
calculated to raise the standard of fe- 
male character in her husband's parish. 
My great-grandfather Johnson and his 
wife held Parson and Madam Lowell in 
the most affectionate esteem and rever- 
ence. Called to the ministry a few 
years later than Mr. Lowell, Mr. John- 
son often spoke of the interest mani- 
fested and the assistance rendered him 
by his pastor while he was pursuing 
his studies. Madam Johnson, the 
daughter of Dr. Humphrey Bradstreet, 
though 3'ounger, was a dear friend of 
Madam Lowell. I have frequently 
heard my grandmother Little speak of 
the gratitude her mother often ex- 
pressed for Madam Lowell's advice 
and s} T mpathy, when, young and inex- 
perienced, she assumed the responsible 
position of a clergyman's wife. Mad- 
am Lowell died in 1756 ; my great grand- 
father was one of the pall bearers. In 
those days it was customary at the 
funeral of persons of note, to present 
in addition to the usual crape bands 
and silk gloves, a gold ring as a memo- 
rial of the departed. My grandfather's 
mourning ring descended to me. It is 
a thick, plain ring of the old fashioned 
yellow gold ; on the outside is engraved 
the then usual insignia of death, a skull 
and cross bone ; within is inscribed : 
"Sarah Lowell ob. 28 of June, 1756, 
JE. 52." The Rev. John Tucker was 
also a pall bearer, and a similar ring 

has been preserved by his descend- 

Parson Lowell married as a second 
wife, Elisabeth, widow of the Rev. 
William A. Whipple, of Hampton 
Falls. Mr. Lowell died 15th of May 
1767, in his 64th year. His loss was 
keenly felt by the bereaved parish. 
The Rev. John Tucker in the sermon 
preached at the funeral, says of him, 
' ' He was endowed with good natural 
powers, which he improved by study, 
under the advantages of a liberal ed- 
ucation. He was not only acquainted 
with those polite arts, and sciences, 
which distinguished him as a scholar 
and a gentleman, but was well furnish- 
ed with that kind of knowledge, which 
was requisite to forming his character, 
and enabling him while young, to ap- 
pear with advantage as a minister of 
the gospel. In his domestic and social 
connections and behavior ; in his pri- 
vate conversation, both as a Christian 
and a minister, he maintained a good 
reputation. He was a lover of good 
men though of different denominations 
and differing sentiments, and much 
given to hospitality." 

Over the fire-place in the dining 
room of Parson Lowell's residence was 
a painted panel representing a group 
of clergymen seated around a table, on 
which were a punch bowl and tobacco 
dish. Above this he had inscribed in 
Latin the motto "In essentials, unit}' ; 
in non-essentials liberty, in all things 
charit} T ." 



The arms of Lowle, Somersetshire 
and Yard ley, are : 


Two candidates supplied the pulpit 
of the Third church for several months, 
the Rev.. Christopher B. Marsh of Bos- 
ton and Thomas Carey of Charlestown. 
Both of these young gentlemen were 
graduates of Harvard, but Mr. Marsh 
had embraced more rigid in the par- 
lance of the time, " Hopkinsian" views 
while Mr. Carey followed in the 
footsteps of the fathers. Mr. Carey, 
having received the votes of two thirds 
of the parish, was ordained on the llth 
of May, 1768. The other third amic- 
ably separated from the Third parish, 
receiving their share of the church 
plate, and formed a new society. They 
erected a meeting-house on Titcomb 
street, and the Rev. Mr. Marsh was 
ordained the 19th of October, 1768. 
He died in 1773, and was succeeded 
by the Rev. Samuel Spring in 1777. 

Parson Care}' was stricken with pal- 
sy after the morning service on Sunday, 
March 9, 1788, and a colleague was 
appointed. The Rev. John Andrews, 
born at Hiugharn, March 3, 1764 ; 

graduated at Harvard in 1786 ; mar- 
ried, Sept. 8, 1788, Margaret, oldest 
daughter of Rev. Prof. Edward and 
Margaret Wigglesworth ; was ordained 
over the First society, Newburyport. 
Dec. 10, 1788 ; received the degree of 
D. D. at Harvard College in 1824 ; re- 
signed his pastoral charge May 1, 1830. 
He died in August, 1845. 

Through the preaching of Whitefield 
and the influence of the ' ' great awak- 
ening." several persons became dissatis- 
fied with the doctrines in which they had 
been reared. These ''new schemers" 
were vehemently opposed by Mr. Top- 
pan, and as firmly by Mr. Lowell, both 
denouncing their meetings as ' 'irregular 
and disorderly." Rev. John Tucker 
having been settled colleague with Mr. 
Toppan, the opposition strengthened, 
and in 1743 the "Separatists" held 
their first public assembly in a barn 
near the upper green, in Oldtown. A 
small house of worship was soon after 
erected on Norfolk, now High street, 
just below Federal street, Mr. Joseph 
Adams, a young graduate of Harvard 
University, officiating as minister. The 
"Separatists" having anathematized 
the parent church as "Old Dagon," 
in retaliation the new one received the 
soubriquet of " Young Dagon." The 
new house, which was never entirely 
finished, blew down in a severe thun- 
derstorm, a catastrophe that brought 
exceeding satisfaction to the opposition, 
who piously regarded it as a just judg- 
ment sent by the indignant hand of an 
outraged Deity. 

On January 3, 1746, nineteen per- 
sons withdrew from the First church 
and formed a new church. Thirty- 
eight, three years previous, had with- 
drawn from communion with the Third 
church. As their petition for disrnis- 



sion from that church and a recom- 
mendation to the new church was de- 
.nied, they were admitted to that body 
without a recommendation. On the 
22d of the same month, acting on the 
advice of Whitefield, the " Separatists" 
extended a call to the Rev. Jonathan 
Parsons to become their pastor. This 
invitation was accepted, and the instal- 
lation took place on the 19th of March. 
This church, not being yet united to 
a Presbytery, was styled "Indepen- 
dent." The installation services were 
conducted entirely by the people 'and 
the pastor-elect. Having mutually 
pledged themselves to support each 
other in the work of the gospel, Mr. 
Parsons offered prayer and preached a 
sermon. On the 7th of April the or- 
ganization of the church was completed 
by the choice of six ruling elders, and 
the September following it united with 
the Presbytery of Boston. Much 
trouble arose respecting the assessment 
of taxes, as the -first and third parishes 
insisted upon the right to tax the se- 
ceders. An appeal] was made by the 
Presbyterians to Gov. Shirley, and va- 
rious other methods used, for years, to 
obtain redress, but without effect, until 
the different societies became distinct. 
corporations, which act was passed 
Feb. 22, 1794. The Presbyterian so- 
ciety erected the church on Federal 
street in 1756. On Sunday morning, 
Sept. 30, 1770, George Whitefield died, 
at the residence of Rev. Jonathan Par- 
sons, and his remains were interred un- 
der the pulpit of that church. Mr. Par- 
sons died in 1776, and the Rev. John 
Murray was ordained in 1781. He 
died in 1793, and was succeeded by the 
Rev. Daniel Dana, Nov. 19, 1794. 

January 28, 1764, that part of New- 
bury now called Newburyport was in- 

corporated as a separate town, and the 
Third church of Newbury became the 
First of Newburyport. As the old 
meeting-house on Fish street had be- 
come time-worn, and too small to ac- 
commodate the large congregation, in 
1801 the church on Pleasant street was 
erected. This edifice, built by Daniel 
Spofford and Amos Palmer, was the 
most splendid in the vicinity, and a 
model of architectural beauty. Its 
erection created a great sensation. 
The Rev. Mr. Carey was able to preach 
the last sermon in the old house, which 
was on Sept. 27th. This sermon 
showed that, though weak in body, the 
clergyman's mind was wholly unim- 

The next morning a vast crowd as- 
sembled to witness the demolition of 
' ' ye ancient meeting-'us." I have often 
heard David Emery, then a lad of six- 
teen, and my cousin, Sophronia Pea- 
bod}*, describe the scene. The sup- 
ports, excepting at one corner, having 
been removed, a hawser was placed 
around the post, and a band of sailors, 
with " a long pull, a strong pull, and a 
pull all together," brought the large 
building to the ground, amidst clouds 
of dust and the huzzas of the multi- 
tude. Gen. Peabody entertained the 
ladies who had gathered in the cham- 
bers of his store with wines and 
cordials from the cellar, and my cousin, 
then a child, thought pulling down 
meeting-houses a delightful event, 
which she wished might happen every 

The Third church in Newbury from 
the first was progressive. In 1750 
they voted, nemine contradicente, that 
"the scriptures be read in publick on 
the Lord's day." Reading from the 
Bible in the pulpit was not customarv 



amongst the first congregations. I 
never remember hearing a chapter read 
until Parson Woods was ordained, 
and he only flid so occasionally. In 
1769 the church at Oldtown voted to 
introduce the Scriptures at public wor- 
ship. When I first went to meeting, 
Watts' psalms and hymns were in use 
and they had been generall}' adopted 
by -the churches. 

In 1794 an organ was placed in the 
First church in Newbur}*port. It was, 
for those days, a large and handsome 
instrument. Round the top of the 
pipes were festoons of crimson silk ; 
above them, in large gold letters, was 
the motto, " Praise Him with Organs." 
This remarkable innovation greatly 
shocked the more rigid, and the new 
instrument became the chief topic of 
conversation in town and country, in 
the commercial mart, and by the do- 
mestic hearth. It was denominated a 
"papistical device a popish fiddle." 
Much was said about the " tooting 
tub," and ; sarving the Divil on an 
orgin," while the Rev. Samuel Spring 
discoursed most disdainfully respecting 
" our neighbor's box of whistles." 
Notwithstanding the opposition, the or- 
gan retained its place, sending forth 
melody Sunday after Sunday, in the 
old meeting-house, and. with the bell 
and weathercock, was transferred to 
the new church. The interior of this 
building has received but little altera- 
tions. The front gallery pews were 
square, and when first erected the pul- 
pit was higher than now, and sur- 
mounted by the sounding-board, then 
considered necessaiy for a speaker. 
This pulpit was reached by stairs lead- 
ing from the back porch, and the plat- 
form beneath it was railed off like an 
altar ; two gates opened into this com- 

partment, to the right and left ; with- 
in, in front, was the communion table, 
behind it stood three large arm chairs. 
with crimson seats. The pulpit cush- 
ion was of crimson velvet. From the 
centre of the ceiling depended a large 
glass chandelier for wax candles. It is 
a thousand pities this had not been 
preserved, as " a thing of beauty is a 
joy forever." 

In those da} r s evening services were 
rare events. When Dr. Parish was or- 
dained, the parish in common with ev- 
ery other was so much divided on doc- 
trinal points, that much vexation and 
dela}- occurred. It was not until 
the evening of the third day after the 
council had been convened that the or- 
dination services took place. The par- 
ish ever after celebrated the anniver- 
sary of his ordination by an evening 
meeting. On one occasion I accompa- 
nied Mrs. Moses Colman. She took a 
pair of tall brass candlesticks and 
mould candles with her. The candle- 
sticks were placed on the ledge on the 
front of the square pew, and the can- 
dles lighted that we might see the 
h}-mns. Nearly every pew was similar- 
ly lighted, there were candlebra on the 
pulpit, and candles on the communion 
table and in the singing seats ; a few 
in tin sconces were hung along the 
walls, still the house was not very 
brilliantly illuminated. The Pleasant 
street meetinghouse was dedicated in 
October. The sermon was preached 
by the Rev. John Andrews : the music 
was unusually fine ; altogether it was a 
great occasion. A dense mass of hu- 
man beings filled every available space 
of the large church ; the ladies were 
resplendent with elegance, mam' stran- 
gers were present, and the dignitaries 
of the 'town and parish ; the day was 



a festal one throughout the place. 

Upon their removal to " Port," both 
Gen. Peabody and Col. Bartlett joined 
the first society, but in a few years, as 
their wives inclined to the more Calvin- 
istic preaching at the Old South, pews 
were taken there. Both ladies soon af- 
ter became communicants, and all the 
Peabody children, with the exception 
of the youngest, who was born in the 
District of Columbia, were baptized at 
this font. 

Sophronia Peabod}" accompanied her 
uncle Leonard Smith to the dedication. 
Mr. Smith had purchased the upper 
corner wall pew on the side towards 
Green street, and to accommodate his 
large family two pews had been let into 
one. This pew was so crowded, Fronie 
and her cousin, Sophy Smith, were 
were perched on the window seat, where 
they vastly enjoyed the scene. 

The new church gave great satisfac- 
tion, and for several years was crowded 
every Sunday. This societ} 7 counted 
amongst its members man} r eminent 
persons. Patrick and Nathaniel C. 
Tracy, Judge Parsons, and his law 
students, amongst which was John 
Quincy Adams, the discarded lover of 
Miss Mary Fraiser, the daughter of 
Moses Fraiser, esq., whose pew was in 
close contiguity, to that occupied by 
young Adams, whom the Fraiser fami- 
ly did not consider a sufficiently bril- 
liant parti for the lovely Mary, then 
one of the celebrated beauties of the 
day. There were the Carters, Daven- 
ports, John Bromfield, the > Cross fami- 
lies, Michael Hodge, Nicholas iBrown, 
Col. Edward Wigglesworth, Joseph 
Marquand, Gen. Jonathan Jackson, 
David Mood}', Jonathan Greele}', Judge 
Greenleaf and his son Col. Greenleaf, 
Major Joshua Greenleaf, the Balches, 

Stones, Johnsons, Noyeses, Toppans, 
Coffins, Jenkins, Mr. Prout, Mr. Israel 
Young, Dr. Micajah Sawyer, Captain 
Hudson, and many otlier distinguished 
persons and families. 

The triangular piece of land on which 
the old meeting-house stood, was sold 
to the town for eight thousand dollars. 
The citizens subscribed thirty-five hun- 
dred of this sum. From this land 
Market square was formed, the well 
dug, and the town pump placed very 
nearly on the site of the pulpit of the 
old meeting-house. 


In 1729 the inhabitants of the upper 
part of the second parish in Newbury 
petitioned the General Court to divide 
the west parish into two precincts. A 
map drawn that year shows that there 
were one hundred and eighty-four hous- 
es in the parish, and the families num- 
bered one hundred and eight} 7 - three. 

March 20, 1781, the second parish 
voted " to desire the General Court to 
confirm the setting off of the fourth par- 
ish from the second," which was done by 
a committee, February 22, according to 
a vote passed by the second parish, 
January 6th, consenting to the division. 

April 15th, 1729, the inhabitants of 
the upper part of the west parish, made 
an agreement " to build a meeting-house 
fifty feet by thirty-eight, and twenty 
foot stud." This was the old meeting- 
house on Meeting-house hill. The 
Rev. William Johnson was ordained 
over the new parish, September 15th, 

The Johnsons are an old English 



family. The first ancestor on record 
was Maurice Johnson, esq., M. P. for 
Stamford in 1523. He had two sons, 
Robert and Francis. 

Robert Johnson, archdeacon of Lei- 
cester, married Maria ; died in 

1625, leaving one son, Abraham, born 
in 1577. 

Abraham Johnson married Anna 
Meadows in 1597 ; they had one son. 
Isaac. Mrs. Johnson died young, and 
in 1602, Abraham Johnson married a | 
second wife, Cicerly Chadderton, by 
whom he had eleven children : Lau- j 
rence, Maurice, Robert, William, Ed- 
ward, Ezekiel, Nicholas, Francis, Hen- 
ry, Cicerly, and Elisabeth. Mr. John- 
sou removed with his family from Mil- 
ton Bryan to Canterbury-, country of 

Isaac Johnson, the son of Abraham 
Johnson by his first wife, in 1623 was 
united in marriage with the Lady Ara- 
bella Piennes. This couple with two 
sons by the second wife, William and j 
Edward, emigrated from Canterbury 
to America. The early death of Lacly 
Arabella Johnson, which cast so deep 
a gloom over that infant colony in the 
wilderness, has become indelibly inter 
woven in the carry history of the Mas- 
sachusetts settlement. 

William Johnson settled in Charles- 
town in 1630, and his brother Edward 
in Woburn. William Johnson in 1633, 
married Elisabeth Storey of Charles- 
town : they had five children : Rahan- 
na, Elisabeth, Joseph, Jonathan and 

Nathaniel was married in 1668, to 
Joanna Long of Charlestown ; they 
had three children : Nathaniel, William 
and John. 

William Johnson, son of Nathaniel 
and Joanna Johnson, came from Charles- 

town to Newbury in 1698. Nov. 9th. 
1702, he married Martha, third daugh- 
ter of Captain Daniel Pierce of the 
" Pierce " farm, Newbury. They had 
six children : Isaac, William, born May 
31, 1706; Eleazer, Elisabeth, Martha 
and Lydia. William Johnson died in 
1741, aged 70 years. 

William, son of William and Martha 
(Pierce) Johnson, graduated at Har- 
vard in 1727. Soon after his ordina- 
tion, he married Betty, daughter of Dr. 
Humphrey Bradstreet. They had nine 
children : Sarah, Martha. Mary, Do- 
rothy, Anna, Hannah. William, Daniel 
and Bradstreet. 

Sarah married Mr. David Chase, 
who resided on his farm near the pres- 
ent Rocks bridge. 

Martha became the wife of Dr. Wil- 
liam Hale of Old Rowley. 

Mary manned nry grandfather. Jo- 
seph Little. 

Dolly was twice married ; first to 
William Folsom, of Newmarket, N.H., 
who died young ; second to Squire 
Blanchard of Chester, N. H. 

Anna married Dr. Tennej* of Brad- 
ford ; he died the second year of his 
marriage from the small pox, which he 
took in performing the duties of his 
profession. He was a most promising 
young man, and bis de/ith was sincerely 
mourned throughout the community. 
The widow Tenney married Mr. Joseph 
Moody of Amesbury. 

Hannah married Master Simeon 

William, Daniel and Bradstreet set- 
tled in business in Newbun 'port. Wil- 
liam married Temperance Little ; their 
two daughters, Temperance and Mary. 
died unmarried. The onh* son, Wil- 
liam, went to Amesbuiy and engaged 
in the carriage business. 



Daniel married Hannah Woodman 
of Newbury, June, 1764 ; the}- had 
two daughters, Hannah, who married 
Mr. Stephen Frothingham, and Betse}', 
who married Mr. Thomas Beck, and 
went to Portland, Me. Daniel John- 
son's second wife was Mary Hortou, 
to whom he was married Feb., 1787. 

Bradstreet Johnson married Susan- 
na Brown, and died childless. 

Madam Betty Johnson died August 
2d, 1756, in the 43d }'ear of her age. 
Parson Johnson married a second wife, 
a widow Sargent, from Amesbury. He 
died February 22d, 1772, in the 40th 
A'ear of his ministry, aged 6G years. 
The stone erected b}* the parish to his 
memory bears this inscription : 

' He was a gentleman of good under- 
standing, of uniform piety and vir- 
tue, of a very amiable temper, ten- 
der and affectionate in his family 
connections, a benevolent and faith- 
ful friend.'.' 

Parson Johnson was reverenced and 
beloved in an unusual degree both in 
his family and the parish. My mother 
was his especial pet ; she could recol- 
lect standing between her grandsire's 
knees, while he taught her the alphabet, 
and though only five years old at his 
decease, she could read the Bible quite 

Eleazer, my great-grandfather's 
youngest brother, married Elisabeth 
Pearce. They had nine children, 
Eleazer, William Pearce, Nicholas, Jo- 
seph, Philip, Jane, Sarah, Elisabeth and 
Martha. Mrs. Johnson died soon 
after the birth of Martha, and Mr. 
Johnson in 1766, was married to Sa- 
rah Bailey. They had one son, John 
Bailey Johnson. M}- great uncle, 
Eleazer Johnson, died in 1792. 

Eleazer Johnson jr., married Han- 
nah Greenleaf in 1777. Their children 

were Eleazer, Joseph, Hannah, Abi- 
gail and Jacob Greenleaf. 

William Pearce Johnson married 
Sarah Greenleaf Oct. 1770. Their 
children were Mary, Catharine, Wil- 
liam Pearce, Sarah, Eleazer 4th, and 
Jonathan Greenleaf. 

Nicholas, the third son, married 
Mary, daughter of Matthew and Anna 
Greenleaf Perkins, Dec. 1776. Their 
children were Nicholas, Anna Green- 
leaf, Mary Perkins, Elisabeth, Sarah, 
Philip, Abel Greenleaf, Benjamin 
Greenleaf, and Henry. 

Joseph, the fourth son, married 
Elisabeth Dole. Their children were 
Joseph, born 1769, died 1785 ; Richard, 
born 1771, lost at sea with Capt. 
Whitcomb and crew in 1718 ; Eleazer, 
born May 9th, 1773, married Sarah 
Newman June llth, 1797; Elisabeth, 
born July 1775, married Richard Dole. 
Philip, the youngest son, married 
Dolly Noyes in 1773. Their children 
were Doll}*, Sally and Philip. 

Jane, the oldest daughter, married 
Nathaniel Nowell ; Sarah, Phineas 
Parker ; and Martha, Capt. Desaunette. 
Elisabeth, my great-grandfather John- 
son's oldest sister, married Isaac Hall. 
Their daughter, Hannah Hall, married 
Edmund Bartlet ; their children were 
William, and Hannah who died young. 
Mr. William Bartlet married the 
widow Betty (Coombs) Lascom, the 
daughter of Philip and Lydia Johnson 
Coombs ; Martha the second sister, mar- 
ried Ralph Cross; the youngest, Lydia, 
Philip Coombs, who came from the is- 
land of Guernsey, and was the first of 
the family in Newburyport ; it was 
their daughter Betty who married 
William Bartlet. 

Isaac Johnson, the first of the name 
in America, and one of the original 



settlers of Massachusetts, arrived at 
Salem June 12th, 1630, and died Sept. 
30th, following. He ranked by virtue 
of his birth, learning and wealth, next 
to Gov. Winthrop, and was so placed 
in the colonial records. His wife, Ar- 
bella or Arabella, was the daughter of 
Thomas the 14th Earl of Lincoln. 
Gov. Winthrop named the ship in 
which the}' came to this country for 

Edward and William, half brothers 
of Isaac, came to America, in 1630, 
probably with Gov. Winthrop. Ed- 
ward was a merchant and historian, 
as he wrote the "Wonder Working 
Providence of Zion's Savior," which 
was a history of New England from 
1628 to 1652. It was printed in Lon- 
don in 1654, and copies of the orig- 
inal edition are highly prized by bibli- 
ographers. He was also speaker of 
the colonial Legislature, and one of 
the members authorized to treat with 
the commissioners of Charles II. He 
resided at Charlestown, and was one 
of the founders of Woburn, as Isaac 
was of Boston. Edward, as ma}' be 
seen from the foregoing, was a man of 
great note in the colon}'. He was the 
first of the family in this town, as it is 
recorded that he traded here about the 
year 1634. As this was a year prior 
to the arrival of the party with 
Messrs. Parker & Xoyes. this trade 
must have been with the Indians, or 
some isolated pioneers. He kept the 
town records of Woburn from its foun- 
dation until his death. 

Below I give some extracts from va- 
rious works regarding Isaac Johnson. 

Bancroft, in his "History of the 
United States," says : 

" The zeal of White soon found oth- 
er and powerful associates in and about 
London, men of religious fervour : AVin- 

throp, Dudley, Johnson, Pynchon. Ea- 
ton, Saltoustall, Bellingham, etc., fa- 
mous in colonial records." 

In another place it says : 

"The virtues of Arabella Johnson, 
a daughter of the house of Lincoln, 
could not break through the gloomy 
shadows which surrounded her. and as 
she was ill before her arrival, grief 
soon hurried her to the grave. Her hus- 
band, one of the first men in the colo- 
ny, zealous for pure religion, in life 
the greatest furtherer of the plantation, 
and by his bequests a benefactor of 
the infant state, was subdued by the 
force of disease and affliction, but he 
died willingly and in sweet peace, mak- 
a most godly end." 

Lossing's "History of the United 
States," says : 

"Amongst these was Isaac Johnson, 
a principal leader of the enterprise, 
and the wealthiest of the founders of 
Boston, and his wife, the Lady Arabel- 
la, a daughter of the Earl of Lincoln. 
She died at Salem, and her husband 
did not long survive her.'' 

Blake's Biographical Dictionary con- 
firms what I have noted regarding 
Edward, stating also, that he went to 
Merrimack in 16o2 with a license to 
trade. Concerning Isaac it says, "Bos- 
ton was settled under his conduct. 
He had the largest estate of any of 
the colonists, and was the greatest fur- 
therer of the plantation." His lot in 
Boston was the square between Tre- 
niont, Washington, Court, and School 
streets, and he was buried at the upper 
end of his lot, which gave occasion for 
the first burial place, to be laid out 
around his grave. This is the church 
vard of King's chapel. His house was 
on a hill near Tremont street. 

Thomas Johnson, kinsman of Wil- 
liam, was amongst the earliest ship- 
builders on the Merrimack river. He 
owned the ship-yard near the bottom 



of Ship street, and was one of the 
first settlers in that locality. His 
home was on the corner of Ship and 
Water streets, and at the time it was 
built there was only the residence of 
Dr. Humphrey Bradstreet and one 
other house below on Water street. 

William Johnson came from Charles- 
town and succeeded Thomas in the 
business, and soon became a wealthy 
man. In the town records, 1731, we 
find, "Town voted liberty to William 
Johnson and others to build a wharf at 
the foot of Chandler's lane (now Fed- 
eral street." , 

The ship carpenters were then one 
of the most influential classes in town, 
and William Johnson was at their head. 
At his death in 1741 he bequeathed 
one half of his ship yard, and his 
homestead, corner of Water and Fed- 
eral streets, to his son Isaac ; his house 
corner of Water and Ship streets and 
the other half of his ship }-ard to his 
son Eleazer. He left legacies to his 
son William, the clergyman, and to 
his daughter. He was a wealthy man 
for those times, and possessed two or 
three farms, well stocked, a number of 
houses, barns, ware-houses, a long 
wharf, a ship yard with all the machin- 
ery, tools and implements of art used 
in the business, lumber, a negro girl, 
etc. The wharf originally cost twenty 
thousand dollars, and as much more 
was afterward spent upon it. When 
it came info" the hands of a descendant, 
and the ship yard merged into John- 
son's wharf, some thousands were 
spent in putting a substantial stone 
wall around it. Here Capt. William 
P. Johnson, who was first a ship car- 
penter, then a successful ship master, 
when the Johnson ship yard was 
no more, on the Johnson wharf, car- 

ried on a large and profitable business. 
He owned the first ship employed in 
freighting in Newburyport, the "In- 
dustry " which was employed in taking 
tobacco, from the James river to Eu- 
rope. He can be truly called the 
father of the freighting business which 
was such a source of profit to the 
place. Capt. Nicholas Johnson, Capt. 
John N. Gushing, and Henry John- 
son, esq., afterwards owners of the 
Johnson wharf, there successfully per- 
sued the same business until their re- 
moval to the " Gushing wharf, " which 
is still owned in the family. The 
Johnson wharf was sold to Mr. Wil- 
liam Bartlett in 1830 for eight thous- 
and dollars, and was called the Bart- 
let wharf. Again in 1855 it was sold 
for forty-two hundred dollars, and has 
passed from the family. 

William Johnson's vessels constantly 
arrived at Newbur3 T port, from Hon- 
duras, the West Indies, the Straits, 
and the north of Europe. He was 
the first person in Newburyport who 
put blinds to the windows of his 

Eleazer Johnson led the band that 
seized the tea and burned it in market 
square before the destruction of the 
tea in Boston harbor. The story is 
as follows : Eleazer Johnson standing 
one day, upon the timber of his }~ard, 
called his men about him, and after a 
few patriotic words gave the order, 
"all who are read}- to join, knock your 
adzes from the handles, shoulder the 
handles and follow me." Every adze in 
the yard was knocked off, and the stout, 
athletic man, who would have marched 
through a regiment of " red coats, " 
had they stood in his way, taking his 
broad axe as an emblem of leadership, 
and for use, marched at the head of 



the company to the powder-house. 
There that well tried axe opened a 
way through the door, and each man 
shouldering a chest of tea, again fell 
into line. The}' marched direct to 
where Market square is now located, 
defiling round the old meeting-house. 
Johnson's axe opened a chest, and box 
and tea were on the ground together, 
each man as he came up followed suit, 
then with his own hand Johnson light- 
ed the pile and burned it to ashes. 

Through the troublous times that fol- 
lowed, the Johnsons stood at the head 
of the " Sons of Liberty." Eleazer's 
sons were, like himself, intelligent, en- 
terprising, and patriotic. His son 
Philip volunteered and participated in 
the battle of Bunker Hill. His son 
Eleazer, who commanded a " Letter of 
Marque" in the revolution, the brig 
" Dalton," was captured, and he and 
his crew were imprisoned at Plymouth 
for two or three years, in the famous 
" Old Mill Prison." His son Nicholas, 
who commanded the "Count de Grass," 
was the first to display the stars and 
stripes from his mast-head on the river 
Thames . His son William Pearce John- 
son, master of brig "American Hero," 
in 1776, hearing, when in one of the 
French West Indian islands, that war 
had begun, loaded with arms and am- 
munition, which he safely landed in 
Boston. This was the first material 
aid furnished the patriots. Like his 
ancestors, William P. Johnson pos- 
sessed great muscular power. In a 
test of strength with the late William 
Bartlett, his neighbor, he lifted eigh- 
teen fifty-six pound weights, and was 
declared the strongest man in town. 
Eleazer Johnson was above the ordina- 
ry size, with black hair and eyes. 

The Johnson coat of arms are : 


The Greenleafs, with whom the 
Johnsons so frequently intermarried, 
have been a family of great considera- 
tion in Newburyport. Three brothers 
of the name emigrated here. Benja- 
min, a descendant of one of these, 
died in 1783, having been a representa- 
tive in the legislature and otherwise 
honored with marks of public confi- 
dence. Jonathan and Benjamin were 
nephews of the first-named Benjamin. 
The Greenleafs sprang from the French 
Huguenots. They removed to Eng- 
land in the sixteenth century : thence 
to America. Stephen Greenleaf. son 
of Edmund, built one of the earliest 
wharves in the vicinity of the mar- 
ket, in 1680. On that spot next the 
town landing w:is the yard in which 
Jonathan Greenleaf, his kinsman, 
worked as a mechanic. Air. Green- 
leaf became the owner of this yard, 
and furnished many vessels for the 
mother country before the revolution. 
He owed all that he was to his industry 
and natural talents : having few educa- 
tional advantages, he became well in- 
formed, won the confidence of all, and 
was constantly in some public office. 



He was on the first "committee of 
safety " in Revolutionary times, was a 
member of the Continental Congress, 
of the governor's council, the State 
senate, and a representative to General 
Court for man}' years. In 1782 the 
town of Newbmyport voted thanks 
for his long and faithful service in Gen- 
eral Court. He was considered one of 
the great men of his day : one of the 
ablest, most eloquent, and most influ- 
ential men, a man of such persuasive 
powers that he was commonly known 
by the designation of "Silver Tongue." 


The Rev. David Toppan, the succes- 
sor of the Rev. William Johnson, was 
ordained April 18, 1774. He married 
Mary, daughter of Dr. Enoch Sawyer 
of the west parish. He was appointed 
professor at Harvard University in 
1792, and died August 27, 1803, aged 
51 years. 

Leonard Woods, D. D.. was settled 
December 5, 1798, and installed at 
Andover Theological Seminary in 1808. 

In 1789, intelligence of the success 
that had attended the labors of a }'oung 
English missionary in New Brunswick, 
having been brought to the Rev. Mr. 
Murray, pastor of the Presbyterian 
church, as it was a period of much re- 
ligious interest, not only in his societ}* 
but throughout the town, the clergy- 
man forwarded a most pressing invita- 
tion to the young divine to come hith- 
er. The invitation was accepted, and 
the summer of that year the stranger 
commenced his ministration in New- 

Charles William Milton was born in 
London the 29th of Nov., 1767. A pro- 
tege of Lady Huntingdon, he graduated 
at the Seminary established by her mu- 
nificence for the education of young 
men in the gospel ministry. 

Mr. Milton was ordained a mission- 
aiy in Spa Fields Chapel, London, 
17th of Feb., 1788, and commenced the 
labor of his vocation in the British Prov- 
inces. From his first advent, the young 
preacher created a great sensation in 
Newburyport and vicinity. He was in- 
vited to settle in Amesbury, but his ad- 
mirers in New bury port could not per- 
mit him to go, but formed a new society, 
the fourth, and settled him as their pas- 
tor. This measure, so little anticipated 
by Mr. Murray when he solicited Mr. 
Milton's presence, must have been gall- 
ing to the pastor of the Presb}-terian 
church, as the larger part of those 
forming the new Independent society 
were seceders from his flock. 

As the town refused the society 
the use of the town house, the members 
for a while met for worship at the resi- 
dence of Mr. Anthony Morse in Milk 
street. In 1793, the present Prospect 
street church was erected, and Mr. Mil- 
ton was installed March 20, 1791 . His 
popularity continued for }-ears, the large 
church being filled, often crowded. 

This building was at first built with 
two towers and belfn's, as now, but 
the interior was much more massive. 
There were galleries on three sides, the 
pews were square, the pulpit like all 
pulpits in those daj's, there was a sound- 
ing board and deacons' seat. Two 
beautiful glass chandeliers lighted the 
house ; these, though the church has 
been modernized, the society has had 
the good taste to preserve. 

I was about fourteen j'ears of agp 



the first time I heard Parson Milton 
preach ; he was in the pulpit when I 
entered the meeting-house. In those 
days the seats, which were on hinges, j 
were raised during prayer, in order that | 
the worshippers might stand more con- 
veniently. As the congregation rose, 
up went the seats with a clap, and the 
" amen " was followed by a slam, bang, 
which rattled the windows and rever- 
berated through the building in a most 
anti-reverential manner. Here and 
there a seat was cushioned for an inva- 
lid or elderly woman, but it was a rare 
thing for a pew to be thus furnished 
throughout, and a carpeted floor had 
never been thought of. Col. Green- 
leaf caused a deal of talk by cushioning 
his pew in the new Pleasant street 
meeting-house with cushions covered 
with red velvet edged by fringe. 

I had scarcejy become seited when up 
jumped Parson Milton from the pulpit, 
in his gown and bands, like a jumping 
jack out of a box, and, with up-raised 
hands, gleaming eyes, the thick curls 
falling to his shoulders, in quick, curt 
tones, he shouted, " Let's pra} T ." Up 
jumped the congregation ; slap ! went 
up the seats. I was scarcely on my 
feet, or had regained the breath which 
had been fairly taken from me, when 
"amen" was pronounced ; down, bang ! 
went the seats, and a Irymn was given 
out. I doubt not that the sermon was 
sound and pithy, but the preacher's 
manner so wrought upon my nerves 
that I could scarcely listen, and the 
final amen was hailed with great satis- 
faction. I was only too glad, as the 
pew doors were flung wide and the men 
and bo3's clattered down the aisle, to 
follow them into the winter sunshine of 
the quiet street. 

By his good sense, urbanity, and 

originality, Parson Milton obtained a 
strong hold upon the affection of his 
people. His preaching was bold and 
energetic, often interluded by the most 
odd and startling illustrations ; at times 
he soared into a perfect rhapsody of 
impassioned eloquence. The manner 
of the man pointed every word, a man- 
ner peculiarry his own ; his tones and 
gestures must be heard and seen to be 
appreciated ; the}- were the power by 
which he swayed the multitude. Whol- 
ly absorbed in his subject, he often cast 
aside rules and regulations, making a 
law unto himself. 

The sexton of his societ}- was a Mr. 
Currier. This name, in the then com- 
mon parlance, was called Kiah. On 
one occasion, at. an evening lecture, 
Parson Milton nearl}- upset the equa- 
nimit}' of Ms hearers, by shouting, in 
the midst of his sermon, without the 
slightest pause between the sentences, 
"The Lord said unto Moses, Kiah snuff 
the caudles ! " Describing one of his 
church members, who was a dealer in 

lumber, he Said : ' ' Brother is the 

crookedest stick that ever grew on 
Zion's hill." One Sunday, in his ve- 
hemence, he pushed the Bible from the 
the desk, and the sacred volume, 
much to the consternation of the 
congregation, went, slap ! upon the 
floor in front of the pulpit. 

On a warm Sunda}' afternoon, the 
Parson espied one of his parishioners 
asleep in his pew, near the pulpit. 
This man's Christian name was Mark. 
Leaning forward, in a quick, loud tone 
he exclaimed, "Mark!" The sleeper 
started and opened his eyes, when in a 
lower tone was added, "the perfect 
man, and behold the upright. " He 
was a true friend of sailors ; every 
Sunday his invariable petition arose 



" that God would bless our seafaring- 
brethren. " Parson Milton died May 
1, 1837, aged seventy years. 

Several members of the Presbyterian 
church, being dissatisfied with the set- 
tlement of the Rev. Daniel Dana as 
their pastor, withdrew from the society 
and forfned the second Presbyterian 
church. The society was incorporated 
November 24th, 1796. That year 
Harris, Pleasant, Broad and Essex 
streets were accepted by the town, and 
the meeting-house erected on Har- 
ris street by the new Presbyterian 
society was dedicated in December. 
The first pastor of this society was the 
Rev. John Boddily, who was born in 
Bristol, England, and educated at Lady 
Huntingdon's college. He was or- 
dained at Westbury, England, in 1780, 
and installed in Newburyport, June 28, 
1797. Mr. Boddily died in 1802, and 
was succeeded by the Rev. John Giles. 
This gentleman, also an Englishman, 
was born in Caerlon, Monmouthshire, 
in 1758 ; he was settled over the socie- 
ty iu Harris street, July 20, 1803. 
Parson Giles was the great Democrat- 
ic, or, as he was commonly styled, Ja- 
cobin preacher, rivalling Dr. Parish, of 
Byfield, his Federalist opponent. Peo- 
ple would rush to town from all quar- 
ters to listen to the Democratic dis- 
courses of Parson Giles, and the ineet- 
ing-house would be thronged, while 
vice versa, the town folk would go 
out to Byfield to enjoy the eloquence of 
the celebrated Dr. Parish's fiery Feder- 
alist harangues. The church in Harris 
street was the nucleus of the Demo- 
cratic society of the place Dr. Smith 
of Mount Rural, Capt. Benjamin Pierce, 
the Williams' family, the Hortons, Capt. 
Richards, Mr. Samuel Noyes of the 
"Farms," and other leading families, 

for though Newburyport was emphati- 
.cally a Federalist town, there was still 
a most respectable minority of Demo- 

From nry earliest recollection, there 
were Baptist churches in Haverhill and 
New Rowle3 T , but the society in New- 
buryport was not formed until 1804. 
This sect had obtained a few converts 
through several previous years. I 
have elsewhere mentioned an unsuc- 
cessful attempt to form a church. The 
first regular service was held in a 
school-house on Marlborough street, 
July 22, 1804 ; a young licentiate 
preacher, Joshua Chase, conducted the 
service. On Sunday, the 14th of the 
October following, Stephen Goodwin, 
David Burbank, Benjamin Goodwin, 
Bart Hurd, John Flood, Nathaniel Pet- 
tingell, and Mrs. Rebecca Dorman, 
were baptized. These were the first 
ever immersed in the town. The 2d of 
May, 1805, a church was regularly or- 
ganized. Soon after, the young licen- 
tiate was ordained as an evangelist and 
went to another field of labor. In the 
autumn, an engagement was made with 
the Rev. John Peak, who preached 
alternately in the Marlborough street 
school-house and in a small building at 
the "Plains." This continued until 
Mr. Peak made it a condition of his 
permanent settlement that the society 
should worship in some central location 
in Newburyport. For a time they 
met in a building called the ' ' Taber- 
nacle," on Temple street. In 1807 
the society began to build a brick 
meeting-house on Liberty street, which 
was completed the next year, and the 
next, 1809, the Rev. Mr. Peak was or- 
dained pastor. 

Capt. William Cutler, of Newbury- 
port, married a French lady, a member 



of the Roman Catholic church. To 
baptize her infant, and perform other 
sacraments, Bishop Chevereaux. of 
Boston, occasional!}* visited Mrs. Cut- 
ler at her residence. There were some 
half dozen" French exiles and other 
foreigners in the place, also Catholics, 
who would assemble on these visits, 
in a chamber which Mrs. Cutler had 
fitted up for an oratory. These were 
the first Catholic services ever held in 

Sophronia Peabod}' when a child was 
intimate with Mrs. Cutler's little girl. 
One Saturda}- as the two were return- 
ing home from school, Frasiette said to 
Sophronia : " The bishop is coming to 
say mass to-morrow. Mamma expects 
him this afternoon in the four o'clock 
stage. We have fitted up the oratory 
real pretty, and if you will never, never 
tell, I will show it to you." Mrs. Cut- 
ler, a very quiet and discreet person, 
avoided all publicity that might cause 
remark or animadversion, consequent- 
ly this caution in Frasiette. Fronie 
having given the required promise of 
secrecy, the two mounted to the second 
story of Mr. Cutler's house. Slowly 
opening a door. Frasiette. reverentby 
crossing herself, admitted her visitor 
into a dimly lighted apartment, richly 
furnished, and hung with several pic- 
tures from scripture subjects ; at the 
upper end was an altar covered with a 
handsome cloth, upon which was a cru- 
cifix, wax tapers, and other appurte- 
nances for worship. Gliding across 
the room, the little Frasiette devoutly 
knelt and whispered an ave. The dim, 
religious air of the room, and the so- 
lemnity of her companion, made a viv- 
id impression on nry .young cousin. 
Scarcely would she then have believed 
that her baby brother. Joseph Little, 

in after years would graduate at a 
Catholic college, marry a catholic lady, 
and live and die in the bosom of that 
church, which, as a New England boy. 
he was taught to shun and abhor. 


From its settlement. Xewbury, for a 
new place, was remarkably well sup- 
plied with the means of education. 
For the first few years. Mr. Parker and 
Mr. Xoyes taught the boys of their 
charge, but in a short time a regular 
schoolmaster was maintained. His 
election and the appropriation for his 
salary being one of the items in the 
warning for the annual town meeting. 
Provision was also made for the study 
of Latin. 

The first schoolmaster of Xewbury 
was Anthony Somerby. In the year 
1639, "for his encouragement to keep 
schoole for one year, he was granted 
foure akers of upland, over the great 
river, on the neck ; also sixe akers of 
salt marsh, next to Abraham Toppan's 
twenty akers." In 1675, Mr. Henry 
Short was hired at a salary of ~> for 
the first six months, and sixpence a 
week from each scholar. 

As the population increased and ex- 
tended, difficulties arose respecting the 
location and support of the school. 
There was the first settlement on the 
river Parker, the Riverside village on 
the Merrimac, and the West village 
near the Artichoke river. As these 
settlements were at a considerable dis- 
tance from each other, each holding 
distinct interests, it was but natural 
that the town meetings became the 



arena of much zealous contention upon 
the school question. The Parker river 
settlement usually contrived to se- 
cure the largest appropriation, while 
the remote village at the ' ' Plains " 
with difficulty secured a mere moiety. 
In 1680 the town voted to pay a 
salary- of 60 a year, and hired Mr. 
Emerson as teacher. The minority 
rebelled, refused to employ Mr. Em- 
erson, and hired a Mr. Burley for 20. 
'The " Generall Courte " was called 
upon to settle the matter. It de- 
cided in favor of Mr. Emerson, 
but as the town was unwilling to pay 
the high salary of 60, Mr. Emerson 
was requested to teach at the old salary 
of 20 ; at his refusal he was dismissed 
with only one dissentient vote. The 
next year Mr. Burle}' was secured as 
master at the usual salary of 20. He 
taught nearly two years, and was suc- 
ceeded by Mr. Edward Toinson who 
resided at the " Plains." .Up to 1691, 
the school was located at Oldtown : that 
year it was voted that it should 1 >e kept 
a third of the year at each of the vil- 
lages. Mr. Seth Shone was hired as 
master : he was to teach readers free, 
Latin scholars were to pay 6d, and ci- 
pherers 4d a week. 

In 1693, Mr. John Clark was called 
to preach and keep a grammar school 
at the west village for one year. In 
1694 Mr. Christopher Toppan was em- 
plo}*ed ; he was to receive ' ' 20 in 
money, and 30s in good country pay, 
so long as he shall carry on one-half 
of the ministry, and 30 in good coun- 
try pa}', so long as he shall keep the 
writing and grammar school." Nicho- 
las Webster succeeded Mr. Toppan; 
he was to have 30 in country pay, 4d 
a week from "lattin" scholars, and 
"nothing a week" for readers, writers, 

and cipherers. From 1700 to 1711, 
Mr. Richard Brown, afterwards minis- 
ter at Reading, was the teacher. In 
1713, Mr. John Woodbridge was hired 
at a salary of 25 ; he taught the school 
for eighteen years, his salary being 
gradual!}- raised to 40 per annum. 

In 1725 the Third parish was formed. 
This parish, as I have previously 
stated, had the care of the educational 
interests of its children, obtaining what 
money was possible from the town and 
making up the remainder b}- a tax upon 
the parish. In 1728 the town voted 
30 for each of the three parishes ; the 
Third parish added 30 to its share. 
TiiC Third parish school was then kept 
in the house of John Ordway, near the 
head of Queen, now Market street. In 
1732 Master Woodbridge was succeed- 
ed by Master Stephen Sewell, who 
taught for nearly fifty years. In 1740 
the Third parish raised 120 to have a 
grammar school, which was taught by 
Mr. Samuel Moody, and a writing 
school, which was taught by Mr. Leon- 
ard Cotton. At the incorporation of 
Newburyport, in . 1764, a committee 
was appointed to provide, at the public 
expense, good and sufficient school- 
houses and the best masters that could 
be procured. The grammar school was 
located on Greenleaf's lane, now State 
street, in the town-house, which had 
been built by the Third parish two 
years previous. This was a two-story 
wooden building, surmounted by a bel- 
fry and spire, and stood near the upper 
corner of Essex street, on a part of 
the Clement estate. Mr. Joshua 
Moocty was the first teacher. At the 
"March meeting," 1764, Mr. Moody 
resigned, and Mr. Eleazer Porter was 
hired for a time. In July the select- 
men offered the school, at 70 a year, 



to Mr. James Lovell, an usher in a 
school in Boston. Mr. Lovell request- 
ed time to decide upon his answer. 
After waiting several weeks, Mr. Sam- 
uel Parker was placed over the school. 
He taughf until 1767, and was suc- 
ceeded by Mr. Moses Holt, who taught 
three years, when Mr. Jeremiah Fogg 
took the school, at 60 a year. Mr. 
Fogg taught three years, when Mr. 
Nicholas Pike was appointed at a 
salary of 80. Master Pike was a 
renowned teacher. He was also town 
clerk, a selectman, and a representa- 
tive to the State legislature ; after the 
Province became a State he was a jus- 
tice of the peace. Mr. Pike was a 
great mathematician. His arithmetic 
was the first ever issued in this coun- 
tn- ; it was in universal use until Mas- 
ter Walsh's appeared. Mr. Pike 
taught the school until 1791. with the 
exception of one year, when his place 
was filled by Master Woodbridge. 
Mr. Samuel Moody succeeded Mr. 
Pike, taught two years, and was fol- 
lowed by Rev. Eliphalet Gillet-t, who, 
in 1794, gave place to another distin- 
guished teacher, Master Michael Walsh. 
In 1796 the brick school-house at the 
lower end of the Mall, near the site of 
the ancient windmill, was built. Mas- 
ter Walsh taught until 1803. when he 
was succeeded by Joshua Lane. He was 
followed by Moody Noyes. and by John 
Loud, who kept until 1806. The 
school having greatly declined, the 
salary was raised from $420 to 
and Mr. Eben Coffin hired to teach. 
He was a superior teacher, and taught 
until 1810, when Joseph Dana suc- 
ceeded him. In a few months Mr. 
Dana became preceptor of the New- 
buryport Academy, and Mr. P>. I). 
Emerson took the school. In 1811 he 

was succeeded by Asa W. Wildes. In 
1816 Mr. Wildes resigned, and Mr. B. 
D. Emerson again took the school. In 
1818 Mr. Frazier was teacher, but not 
giving satisfaction, Mr. Wildes was 
persuaded to again take the school, 
which he taught until 1823. 

The two writing schools established by 
the town in 1 764 were located : one on 
Bartlets lane, now Winter street, and 
the other on a lane which is now 
School street. The school in the 
North school-house was form ally opened 
by Parson Lowell, with a prayer and 
an exhortation, in which the pupils 
were told "to obe}- and reverence the 
master in school, and at all times to 
conduct themselves in a proper and 
orderly manner." 

The Rev. Mr. Parsons opened the 
South school with prayer and good 
advice to the bo3~s. The master of the 
North school was John Vinal from 
Boston ; he was succeeded by John 
Myc-all, I. Hills. R. Long, T. Thomp- 
son, Enoch Titcomb, Henry Titcomb, 
Win. Sawyer, Wm. Farnham. Archi- 
bald McPhail. Henry Titcomb and 
Jonathan Coolidge. 

Master Stephen Sewell was the first 
teacher at the South s'chool ; he contin- 
ued to teach until, his powers having 
become unpaired by age, Bishop Nor- 
ton was appointed usher ; he succeeded 
Master Sewell, retaining the school 
until 1790. lie was followed by Joseph 
Moody. Joseph Newman, Robert 
Long. Samuel Soodhne, Ben. Cheever. 
Ben. AVhitmore. George Titcomb and 
Newman Brown. This school in 1*L'2 
was in the new school-house standing 
on the site of the oM one. In 17DG 
the writing schools were so full, a 
centre school was formed in the room 
vacated by the grammar school, in the 



old town house, where it remained until 
1609, when the second stoiy was add- 
ed to the school-house at the lower 
end of the mall, and the school re- 
moved to it. The masters in the cen- 
tre school were Samuel Toppan, Paul 
Noyes, Benjamin Clanin, James Burn- 
ham, Samuel Colman, Benjamin Gould, 
Asa W. Wildes, George Titcomb, 
Benjamin Whitmore and S. Goodhue. 

In 1805 the " north end" petitioned 
for a school- house. A school had been 
organized, which was for a while 
taught in the upper loft of a barn be- 
longing to Capt. Morrison on Kent 
street. The brick school-house was 
built, which stood upon Kent, corner 
of Russia street. The masters of 
this school were William Pipkin, 
Robert Harvey, Daniel Haskell, 
George Rogers, Rev. H. Wheeler, 
Nathan Brown, Josiah Bartlett and 
George Titcomb. 

Master Robert Harvej* was also clerk 
at St. Paul's Episcopal church. He 
was an excellent teacher, and a most 
eflicient church officer, much beloved 
and respected b}* the rector and the so- 
ciety. Previous to this date, tin foot- 
stoves, holding within an iron pan 
filled with hard wood coals, had been 
the only protection from cold in any 
house of worship, but about the time 
of Master Harvey's appointment to the 
oflici- of clerk, a large, cast iron stove 
had been placed in the broad aisle of 
St. Paul's church. One cold morning, 
finding that the wood fire did not give 
the requisite heat, as uncle Nat Bailej', 
the sexton, was ringing the bell, Clerk 
Harvey proceeded to fix it. In so do- 
ing he smutted his hand, which inad- 
vertently was passed over his -face, 
smearing it most ludicrously. As was 
then the custom, at the appointed time 

the clerk rose in his desk, and with his 
usual grave dignity gave out the Irymn, 
the first line of which most singularly 

"Behold the beauties of my face." 

The effect was irresistible, and a sup- 
pressed smile spread over the congre- 
gation, while the unconscious clerk 
calmly finished the verse. 

Master George Titcomb was an ex- 
cellent penman. During the winter he 
usually taught a private evening writ- 
ing school. He was also noted for 
making the quill pens then wholly used. 

There was no public school for fe- 
males until 1790 ; then four " dames'" 
schools were gathered for girls between 
five and nine years, in which were 
taught reading, spelling the catechism, 
sewing, knitting, "good manners and 
proper decency of behavior." These 
" dames" were Ann Bradish, Elisabeth 
Chandler, Anne Obin and Margery Ros- 
seau. In 1792 the daughters of those 
paying a tax of over three hundred 
pounds, were permitted to attend the 
grammar school, an hour and a half 
after the usual session during the sum- 
mer, when the number of male pupils 
was diminished, to receive instruction 
in reading and grammar from the mas- 
ters. This arrangement not proving 
satisfactory, was discontinued at the 
end of the season. 

In 1791 two schools for the instruc- 
tion of small boys were organized. In 
1804 four morning schools were estab- 
lished for girls, which were kept from 
six to eight o'clock, and Thursday after- 
noons, for six months in the year. Not- 
withstanding the early hour these 
schools were well attended. They were 
taught by the masters of the boys' 
schools in the four school-houses of the 



In 1812 these morning schools were 
discontinued, and three grammar 
schools for girls were established. 
One was located in the Court House, 
the " north end " school was taught in 
the second story of the school-house 
on Kent street, and the third was on 
Beck street. The teachers were Miss 
Chadbourne, Miss S. I. Moulton and 
Miss Clarissa Call. Private schools 
were extensive!}* patronized. Those 
for young children were usually taught 
by middle aged or elderly women, in 
cap and spectacles. There were Dame 
Moody, Marm Emerson, Marm Fowler 
at Belleville, and others. Distinguished 
private schools for both sexes were 
taught by gentlemen. Several of the 
teachers of the public school-. :ii 
times taught private schools. Master 
Long kept in a low, ropewalk-like 
building, a rude structure, with an im- 
mense fire place, and a wall from which 
large patches of plastering had been 
detached, while the remainder was in a 
cracked and shaky condition. Though 
at that time a teacher considered it 
necessary never to neglect the axiom 
"spare the rod and spoil the child. " 
even then Master Long was noted for 
severity. " Oh my ! how he did lick 
the boys ! " was the exclamation of a 
former pupil, as she recalled her school 
days. Master Walsh had a flourishing 
private school, in a school-house back 
of the church on Harris street. Mas- 
ter Archibald McPhail, for a time, 
taught a very select and genteel school, 
in a long, low, wooden building on 
Green street, on the lot where the 
Catholic church now stands. Later 
Master Titcomb taught in this building 
a private school for boys. There was 
also a number of select schools for 
young ladies in the town. In my 

childhood Marm Dod and Miss Phillipa 
Call were famed instructresses. Mrs. 
Catharine Wigglesworth lirown, the 
widowed daughter of Col. Wiggles- 
worth, had a large and genteel school 
for several years in Xewburyport ; 
afterwards she was the Principal of a 
flourishing seminary in Georgetown, 
D. C. Miss Akerman. Mrs. McCul- 
loch. Miss Susan Tenney, Miss Elisa- 
beth White and Miss Stan wood, had 
private schools for Misses. Dr. Sam- 
uel Colman, for a time, taught a private 
school for young ladies, in a room 
over the ''Herald" office. After his 
decease this school was continued by 
his daughter Mary Ann, at her 
mother's residence on Water street. 
Miss Brice. an English woman, taught 
in the old ; - Tabernacle, " Temple 
street. This lad}' and her negro maid 
servant were conspicuous characters 
at that period. 

At each of the female schools, in ad- 
dition to knitting and plain sewing, or- 
namental needlework was taught, and 
in some, instruction was given in 
drawing in India ink and painting in 
water colors ; also, every girl was 
taught to embroider letters in mark- 
ing stitch. One was considered very 
poorly educated who could not ex- 
hibit a sampler ; some of these were 
large and elaborate specimens of 
handiwork ; framed and glazed, they 
often formed the chief ornament of the 
sitting room or the best chamber. 
When the}- merely comprised the al- 
phabet, in the variously designed let- 
ters of printing and writing, finished 
by a verse of poetry, or a text from 
Scripture, the whole enclosed by an or- 
namental border, the}' were quite pret- 
ty specimens of needle work ; but some- 
times, when more ambitions attempts 



were exhibited, they were sufficiently 
grotesque. I have seen wrought under 
the letters, a square, three-storied house 
flanked by a pot of flowers, the pot, 
and what was intended for a rose bush, 
as tall as the house, with a horse on 
the other side twice as large as either. 
Pocket-books and cushions worked in 
crewel, had given place to wrought 
muslin, and pictures worked on satin. 
Mourning pieces were in vogue, though 
some preferred scriptural or classical 
subjects. One could conscientiously 
pronounce these productions remarka- 
ble specimens of art. The needlework 
was usually very neatly executed, but 
the false perspective and queerly drawn 
figures, rendered most of them "simply 
ridiculous." Miss Dod had some hand- 
some copies of the pictures of the 
Washington family executed in her 
school, and Mrs. Katy Brown's school 
was distinguished for the pictures exe- 
cuted by its pupils. Sophronia Pea- 
body, of this school, embroidered a 
mourning piece, a memorial to her sis- 
ter Fila. who died in her fifth year. 
In the foreground, on a green mound 
stood a white monument surmounted 
by an urn ; the front of the pillar bore 
the name and age of the deceased ; 
above drooped a luxuriant weeping wil- 
low : beside the tomb knelt a lady, clad 
in the height of French fashion, very 
properly drying her tears on a large 
handkerchief in the right hand ; beyond 
stretched a bit of landscape, put in by 
Mrs Brown in colored chalks, which 
showed that the lady had a fine talent 
for landscape painting. The parting of 
Hector and Andromache was a favorite 
picture amongst the girls of Mrs. 
Brown's school. The couple were rep- 
resented in a final embrace on the por- 
tico of a palace. Massive pillars sup- 

ported the roof ; the floor was of alter- 
nate squares of black and white, repre- 
senting marble. A little apart stood 
the nurse bearing the infant heir in her 
arms, while the back ground showed a 
a plain dotted by tents. Coats of 
arms were also embroidered on white 
satin with colored silk. These pictures 
were tastefully framed by Mrs. Moses 
Cole. Miss Peabody's was framed in 
gilt, in an oval of enamel, with gold 
stars in the corner. 

Miss Man* Ann Colman was a good 
teacher of water color painting; the 
fruit and flower pieces executed at 
her school were natural and well done. 
She also taught painting on wood ; 
several work-boxes and work-stands, 
painted under her instruction, are still 
to be seen in the residences of some of 
our older citizens. 

Besides these schools there were sev- 
eral noted academies in the vicinity. 
As a boarding-school "finish" was 
considered requisite to complete a gen- 
teel education, these became flourishing 
institutions. The academy at Atkin- 
son, N. H., was one of the first estab- 
lished in New England ; that at Brad- 
ford had been founded several years. 
The Lynn academy was at that time a 
noted school. When Miss Peabody 
was fifteen, it was decided that she 
should receive the benefit of an acade- 
mic course. My aunt, who was piously 
inclined, would have preferred Brad- 
ford, but as Mr. Leonard Smith's 
youngest daughter, Sophia, and the 
daughters of several of Gen. Peabody's 
Boston friends were at JLynn academy, 
the general and his daughter inclined 
to that seminary ; as the gentleman that 
3'ear represented the town in the State 
legislature, and it was convenient for 
Fronie to accompany her father on his 



way to and from Boston. Mondays and 
Saturdays, Lynn received the prefer- 

In 1807 the Newburyport academy 
was incorporated. Gen. Peabody was 
active in this measure, and he wa< so 
much pleased with Mrs. Boardman, the 
preceptress of the Lj'nn academy, that 
through his endeavors she was secured 
for the new academy at Newburyport. 
Mr. Amos Clark was the first precep- 
tor, assisted by Mr. Archibald McPhail. 
Mr. Chandler succeeded Mr. Clark, as- 
sisted l>\ Mr. Adams. Mr. and Mrs. 
Alfred Pike wer6 preceptor and pre- 
ceptress of this institution for several 
j-ears. Later, Mr. Eben Bailey, son of 
Mr. Paul Bailey of West Newbury, 
taught a large private school in New- 
bur}-port. Mrs. Lord was the principal 
of an excellent school at the academy. 
Her pupils executed many fine paintings 
in water colors ; some of their paintings 
of fruit and flowers on white velvet 
were very beautiful. This lady's mar- 
riage with Dr. Richard S. Spofford, 
was regarded by her pupils and the 
public as a loss to which they could 
scarcely have been reconciled, had they 
not rejoiced in the prospect of her hap- 
piness and usefulness amongst them in 
a different sphere. 

Master Cheever and Master Whit- 
more for manj- years were noted teach- 
ers in Newbury. 

The first Sabbath school in Massa- 
chusetts was organized in Newburyport 
in 1814. These schools were held in 
the chapel of the North church, a small 
wooden building on Titcomb street, and 
that of the Old South church, a dingy 
brick edifice on the upper side of Beck 
street. The school at the North was 
formed by Miss Phebe Harrod, Miss 
Louiza Farnham, who married the Rev. 

Dr. Orville Dewey, and Miss Eliza Epps 
Carter, who became the wife of the Rev. 
David Kimb'all, of Rockford, 111. That 
at the Old South, was under the direc- 
tion of Miss Ann Wheelwright, who 
first married Mr. Samuel Adams of the 
Newburyport Academy, second her 
cousin John Wheelwright. Miss Dolly 
Greenleaf, afterward Mrs. Pearson of 
Portland, Maine, and Miss Eliza Gould, 
who became Mrs. Rappello of New 
York city. Four of these ladies, Miss 
Harrod, Mrs. Dewe}', Mrs. Kimball 
and Mrs. Rapello, are still living in the 
enjoyment of a hale old age. 

In 1817 a union school from each of 
the societies in the town was organized 
at the Court House. 

Mr. John Pearson was the first sup- 
erintendent, he was succeeded by Mr. 
Samuel Tenney and William B. Bannis- 
ter, esq. This continued a year or two, 
then the different societies formed a 
school for themselves as at present, but 
for a time an annual union service was 
held in Parson Milton's meeting-house, 
the children with their teachers occupy- 
ing the wide galleries of the spacious 
building. A union teachers' meeting 
was also continued for some time. 

Miss Maiy Hodge was one of the 
most active and efficient amongst the 
first Sabbath school teachers. 


At an early date, the colonists of 
Newbury commenced the construction 
of water craft. The first vessels de- 
signed for fishing and the coasting 
trade were built on the river Parker. 
As the settlement increased, the water- 



side people became largely engaged in 
shipbuilding ; many vessels, as I have 
previousl}" stated, being built for Eng- 
lish owners. The first ferry across the 
Merrimac was at Carr's Island, and one 
of the first building yards was estab- 
lished there by Mr. George Carr. I 
have stated that my great-grandfather 
Johnson's father had a shipyard as early 
as 1695, near the bottom of Chandler's 
lane, now Federal street, and the busi- 
ness was continued in the Johnson 
family for two or three generations. 
In 1759 Mr. Gideon Woodwell owned 
a yard near the foot of Muzzey's lane, 
now Marlborough street, and as early 
as 1730, Mr. Samuel Moggaridge had 
a dwelling house and building yard at 
the rocky point farther up the river, 
afterwards known as Moggaridge's 
point. At that time Mr. Ralph Cross 
was a prominent builder, and Mr. Wil- 
liam Gerrish had an extensive yard 
reaching from South, now Bromfield 
street, to Somerby's court, and from the 
river back to Hancock street. Ship 
yards were scattered along the river 
bank from Pierce' s farm to Mogga- 
ridge's point. In the summer of 1766 
seventy-two vessels were upon the 
stocks, all in process of construction. 
During the Revolution many privateers 
were built in Newbury and Newbury- 
port. At the close of the war, ship 
building again became active, but the 
ships of those daj-s were small, none 
exceeding two to three hundred tons bur- 
then. About 1790 Mr. Elias Jackman 
established a shipyard near the Chain 
bridge. This bridge, built under the 
supervision of Mr. Timothy Palmer, 
was opened to the public November 
26, 1792. About this time Mr. Orlando 
B. Merrill established himself in ship 
building at Bellevilleport. Mr. Mer- 

rill was the inventor of the water-line 
model. Previous, only skeleton models 
had been used. There were several 
other prominent ship builders at the 
" Shipyards ; " Mr. Elias Briggs sent 
forth a large number of vessels, and 
the }-ards of Messrs. Stephen and Ben- 
jamin Dalton, Joseph Coffin, and Messrs. 
Jonathan and Thomas Merrill, from 
year to year resounded with the cheery 
sounds of industry. 

I have stated that Major Ephraim 
Emery married Miss Mary, daughter 
of Mr. Peter Russell of Bradford, who 
was a distinguished shipbuilder. Their 
oldest daughter, Mary Emery, married 
Capt. John Remick. This gentleman 
was engaged in ship building as a mas- 
ter carpenter during his life. In his lat- 
ter years Maj. Emery resided with his 
daughter and son-in-law at their resi- 
dence in Bellevilleport, and there the 
old revolutionary hero, who for several 
years had patiently borne the affliction 
of blindness, breathed his last in 1825, 
aged 67. 

At the south end, Mr. Gideon Wood- 
well had been succeeded by his son, 
Capt. John Woodwell, who carried on 
an extensive business at this period. 
Immediately preceding the great fire 
of 1811, many small craft and boats 
were built at the south end. 


Though the European troubles had 
impeded commerce, Newbury port was 
as prosperous as her sister seaports. 
Her foreign, West India and coasting 
trade, combined with the country traf- 
fic, caused the wharves and business 



streets to wear the aspect of a thriving 

The first wharf at the ' ' water side " 
was built in 1656, near the site of the 
present Market house, by Mr. Paul 
White, along with a dock, warehouse 
and stillhouse. In 1678, Marchant 
(Richard) Dole procured the grant of 
land lying near "Watts his cellar," 
where he built a wharf and dock. 
" Watts his cellar" was also in what is 
now Market square. In 1680 the town 
granted liberty to Ensign Stephen 
Greenleaf and Mr. Daniel Davidson to 
build a wharf at the point of rocks 
above " Watts his cellar." The same 
year Nathaniel Clark obtained a por- 
tion of the flats, upon which to build a 
wharf. The town also voted to grant 
the petition of Benjamin Rolfe, Doctor 
John Dole, and Richard Dole, for four 
or live rods on the flats, from Watt's 
cellar spring to Ensign Greenleaf's, for 
a place to build a wharf. Robert Co- 
ker, in the behalf of his son, Benjamin 
Coker, proposed for a place to make a 
wharf. Year after year other wharves 
were added down the river until a con- 
tinuous line stretched from the ship 
yards to Joppa. 

In the year 1811 the first was Pills- 
bury 's wharf at the foot of North, now 
Oakland street. The second was Se- 
vier's, near the foot of Broad street. 
The distillery of William and Abraham 
Williams stood near the head of this 
wharf, just below the residence built by 
Capt. Sevier, afterwards purchased by 
Joseph Williams, jr., from which the 
wharf was known by the name of the 
Williams wharf. Richard's and Cald- 
well's wharves came next. Below was 
that of Major Samuel Coffin. This 
wharf ran out into deep water ; upon 
it was another large distillery, and 

twenty sail of vessel could be seen 
there at a time, discharging cargoes of 
molasses from the West Indies. Hor- 
ton's and Newman's wharves ranged 
below. Moses Brown's was at the foot 
of Green street. Here was a third 
distillery, and this was the focus of 
Mr. Brown's extensive business. Tit- 
comb's wharf came next ; then, Green- 
leaf's, Ferry, Boardman's. O'Brien's, 
Jackson's, Jewett's, Atwood's, Car- 
ter's, Marquand's, Hudson's, and Dav- 
enport's. Below was Lunt's mast 
yard ; then came Haskell's. Bartlet's, 
Johnson's and Coombs' wharves. The 
lower wharf was owned by Maj. David 
Coffin, who was then one of the most 
thriving merchants. 

At that time every vessel placed 
upon the stocks was wholly completed 
and equipped for sea before it sailed 
over the bar. This brought a multi- 
plicity of business to the town. Along 
the wharves stretched lofty warehouses 
crowded with merchandise. Carts and 
dniys rattled up and down, incoming 
and outgoing vessels came and wenf , 
the merry songs and ' ' heave ho's " of 
the sailors, blended with the cheery 
tones and hearty jests of the steve- 
dores, carts from the interior unloaded 
and loaded at every turn was bustle, 
industry and activity. Here were the 
spacious sail and rigging lofts, pump 
and block makers' shops, and ship 
chandlers stores, every thing that per- 
tained to maritime trade. Mr. Joshua 
Norton, Joseph Stanwood and the 
Messrs. Davis and Haynes, had large 
sail lofts ; Thomas Prichard a rigging 
loft on Ferry wharf; Enoch Toppau 
a block maker's shop on Carter's 
wharf. Maj. Joshua Greenleaf did 
most of the ship iron work at his large 
smithy on Liberty street. Mr. Gor- 



don had a similar establishment at 
Bellevilleport. This gentleman was 
somewhat economical in his house- 
hold. At that period cheese was a 
customary appendage of the dinner 
table, being considered an accessor}' to 
digestion. Mr. Gordon employed 
several workmen. One day a large 
cheese was placed on the table ; after 
the meat had been disposed of, Mr. 
Gordon took a knife to cut the cheese ; 
turning it over, he exclaimed, " this is 
a good cheese, a pretty cheese, too 
good to spoil ! " and laying down the 
knife, he rose and called his men to their 
work. That afternoon a large anchor 
was to be forged, the fire was kindled, 
the iron heated. 

"That is a good heat!" exultantly 
exclaimed the master. 

"A good heat," with one voice re- 
sponded the men. 

"A grand heat," reiterated the mas- 

"A grand heat," again responded the 

"Then why don't you strike?" im- 
patiently demanded the master. 

"It is a good heat?" queried the 

"Yes, yes, strike, strike I tell ye," 
hurriedly ordered the master in a quick 
authoritative tone. " Strike, strike." 

"Don't }'ou think it is too good a 
heat to spoil?" quietly returned the 
foreman, while not an arm was uplifted. 

The hint was taken ; the cheese 
brought with a loaf of brown bread. 
The luncheon eaten and well washed 
down with grog, the anchor was forged 
with a will. Mr. Kenniston had then 
just set up his forge at the shipyards. 
Sargent's gunsmith shop was on Water 
street, and Mr. Joseph George did an 
extensive blacksmith's business at his 

stand on Inn street. Mr. Robert 
Dodge had a smithy on High street for 
carriage work. Carriage building, which 
for many years had been a thriving 
business on the main road, had just 
been introduced at Belleville. 

In 1785, before Washington street 
was laid out, Mr. John Tracy had a 
rope-walk running from the Quaker 
burying ground to the river. A Mr. 
Crocker at an early date built a rope- 
walk on State street, running from 
where the Whitefield church now stands 
towards Fair street. He afterwards 
built another near Frog pond, which sub- 
sequently became the property of a Mr. 
Cummings. When the Newburyport 
turnpike was built it was laid out di- 
rectly through this walk, which conse- 
quently was removed. Mr. Cummings 
in company with a Mr. Akerman aftei;- 
wards did business in a walk running 
from South, now Bromfield, to Marlbo- 
rough streets. Abel Greenleaf had 
a walk which ran from State street, 
where stands the store of Capt. John 
Buntin, to Green street. E. Swett 
built a walk which extended from Fair 
to Federal, opposite Charter street ; 
this afterwards was purchased by Na- 
thaniel Tracy ; and Mr. Swett built an- 
other running from Federal to Lime 
streets. Moses Kent built one from 
Federal to Fair street, where Orange 
street now is ; this was moved to the 
south side of Federal street, where it 
became the property of Edward Wig- 
glesworth ; afterwards it was purchased 
by Robert Gardner and moved to South 
street, where, in company with a Mr. 
Laskey, a large business was done at 
the time of the great fire. Messrs. 
Eleazer Johnson, and Young and Pet- 
tingell had walks extending from South 
to Marlborough streets. Andrew Laskey 



had a walk on Milk street which ran 
to Water street. Mr. Green Pearson 
one from Washington to Water street ; 
this was I think the walk built by Mr. 
John Tracy. Edward Wigglesworth 
built one which ran from Lime to South 
street above Newbury ; this was sold 
to Eleazer Johnson, moved south of 
South street, and afterwards owned by 
Andrew Laskey, and finally by Mr. 
George Donnell, who is still living, 
1880, the oldest man in the city. 
E. & I. Swett built a walk south of 
Maryborough street. The Gardner 
rope-walk was afterwards owned by 
David Evans, whose sons went into the 
cordage business in other towns. Near 
that Deacon Amos Pettingell built a 
walk which later was owned b}" Pettin- 
gell and Donnell. Eleazer Johnson 
built another near the last named which 
was afterwards owned by Mr. Worm- 
stead and son. 

Below, in Newbury, skirting the river 
and round ' ' Flat-iron point," was an 
irregular collection of small low houses, 
forming the fishing hamlet of Joppa. 
Here in the season the river bank would 
often be lined with wherries which had 
just been brought in loaded with fish, 
which the sun-burned, bare-footed wom- 
en, in brown homespun short gown and 
petticoat tucked to the knee, with the 
older children, aided the toil-worn fish- 
ermen to carry to the great fish-flakes 
on the uplands below the long rope- 
walks. Round the open doors toddled 
wee, white-haired urchins, while others 
sailed ships and mimic boats in the 
pools and eddies of the flats. 

Beside the distilleries I have men- 
tioned, Mr. Joseph Williams had a 
large establishment at the foot of 
Strong street, and Caldwell's on Mer- 
rimac street was even then noted, for 

its rum, anise and other cordials. Mr. 
John Berry Titcomb had a bakery and 
flour store back of the North church, 
and Mr. Gunnison carried on an exten- 
sive business on Titcomb street. Pu- 
laski Woodman had a bake-house near 
the head of Market street, and Messrs. 
Theodore and John Pearson's bakeries 
were on Centre street. Mr. Samuel 
Wheeler had a bake-house and store on 
the same street, and Ebenezer Pearson 
one on Middle street. 

On the site of the present Market 
house was a row of low, open butcher's 
shambles, occupied by Mr. David Ten- 
nej', Jeremiah Cohnan and David Em- 
ery, these two doing business as the 
firm of Colman & Emery. In addition 
a number of butcher's carts came in 
two or three times a week from adja- 
cent towns. These after supplying 
their customers, occupied a stand in 
Market square. Previous to the de- 
molition of the meeting-house, it was 
their custom to range back of that 
building with other country traders, a 
row of oat troughs having been nailed 
to the sacred edifice for the purpose of 
baiting horses. The chief of these out 
of town butchers at that time were 
Mr. John Follansbee and his son John, 
and Mr. Samuel Bailey from the upper 
parish in Newbury, and Mr. Williams 
from the lower parish ; Mr. Clements, 
Mr. Kendrick, and Capt. Sawyer from 
Amesbury. Mr. John Dodge had a 
large soap and candle manufactory near 
Market square. At the north end 
were the wool pulling and leather dress- 
ing establishment of Messrs. Butler 
Abbott and Henry Merrill. Above 
were two large tanneries owned by Mr. 
John Balch and Mr. Eben Savory, each 
of whom carried on an extensive bus- 




The town had been greatly improved 
in the past ten or fifteen years ; new 
streets had been laid out and graded, 
and many fine stores and dwellings 
erected. State street as a whole pre- 
sented a view of two-storied wooden 
buildings, mostly painted pale } T ellow, 
with green blinds or shutters. Inter- 
spersed were lofty brick blocks and ed- 
ifices, and on the lower side adjoining 
Water street was a row of old, un- 
painted buildings, remnants of the more 
ancient town. On the upper side of 
the street, the first house from High 
was an old fashioned one with a long, 
sloping back roof. Here lived "Scrab- 
ble " Titcomb. How he obtained this 
sobriquet I am unable to say. Next 
were the new and palatial residences 
of Mr. Joshua Carter and Gen. John 
Peabody. On the opposite corner of 
Harris street lived Master Pike, in a 
large, substantial house ; then came the 
Tracy mansion, at that time occupied 
by Jacob Coburn as a hotel. The next 
was an old wooden structure, occupied 
by the widow Wood ; the next be- 
longed to Mrs. Burt ; Mrs. Searle also 
occupied it as a dwelling, and shop for 
dry goods and milliner}-. Below was 
the old Wyatt house then occupied by 
Mr. Ebenezer Stedman. . On the up- 
per corner of Pleasant street stood Dr. 
Micajah Saw3'er's handsome residence ; 
on the other corner the year previous a 
large three-stor}- wooden block had 
been built. Here Cornhill commenced ; 
before the street had been graded 
this was quite an eminence, high and 
warm land ; for years it was planted 
with corn, and thus obtained its name. 
The corner store in the block was oc- 
cupied by Arthur Gilman for dry 

goods ; then came those of Paul Noyes, 
John Porter, Pierce & Gordon, Moses 
Kimball, jr., Francis Somerby, and 
William Hoj't. William Francis had a 
hair dressing shop at the lower end. 
The upper rooms were let to Joseph T. 
Pike and Paul Bishop, tailors ; James 
Hodge, shoemaker ; and the law offices 
of Edward St. Loe Livermore, Little & 
Bannister, and John Stuart. Next, on 
the lower corner of "Thread-needle 
alle} 7 ," came the " Wolfe Tavern," a 
two-story, wooden building, somewhat 
dingy with age ; before the principal 
entrance, which was reached by a flight 
of steps from the sidewalk, from a tall 
post swung the sign, a likeness of Gen. 
Wolfe ; from this sign the house de- 
rived its name. This was also the 
"Eastern Stage Company's" house; 
to and from its doors rattled the gaud- 
ily painted stage coaches, and in the 
rear its numerous fine horses were sta- 
bled. This house for many }*ears had 
been kept by Moses Davenport, but 
latterly it had passed into the hands of 
Mr. Prince Stetson. Below the "Wolfe 
Tavern" was the '-Phoenix Building," 
an imposing four- storied brick struct- 
ure, a fine specimen of architecture, 
with handsome copings, and between 
the upper windows, arched niches orna- 
mented with statues. Here was the 
custom house, Ralph Cross, collector ; 
the post office, Caleb Cross, post mas- 
ter ; the office of the Phoenix Insurance 
Compan}' ; the remainder of the lower 
floor was improved by Philip Bagle} r and 
son, auctioneers, and Joseph Jackman, 
dry goods. Prince Stetson had hired 
the chambers as additional sleeping 
rooms to his hotel ; the fourth story was 
"Madison hall." Below the Phcenix 
came Blunt's building, a second large 
four-storied brick block ; the stores 



were occupied by Joseph Hooper, crock- 
ery. Joseph Coolidge and Moses Os- 
good, dry goods ; Howard S. Robinson 
improved part of the chambers as a 
dwelling, the others were rented to 
Charles Norris & Co. for a printing of- 
fice, and David Fairman, an engraver. 
Next came Peabody's corner, three 
stores ; here Samuel Stevens had a 
hardware store, John Chickering one 
for dry goods, and Thomas C. Whipple 
a book store ; above, in the chambers, 
were the Nowburyport library, and 
Benjamin Lord, tailor. 

The first building on the lower corner 
of State street, from High street, was 
the handsome brick house built by John 
Berry Titcomb. Next came the ele- 
gant Dalton establishment, then owned 
and occupied by Moses Brown. Dr. 
Andrews, pastor of the First church, 
I'esided in the third house ; next came 
those of Mrs. C'arr, and Jonathan 
Marsh, esq. The Balc'h place came to 
the corner of Temple street. Col. 
Stephen Bartlett's house was on the 
lower corner ; then came the Moulton 
house, and that of David Wood. Be- 
low was the bank building, Newbury- 
port Bank, William Bartlet, president, 
and Samuel Mulliken, cashier; the re- 
mainder of the building being occupied 
by Mrs. Bodily as a boarding house. 
The next lot, extending to Essex 
street, had been occupied by the Town 
hall. In 1809. Gen. John Peabody 
offered to erect a handsome three-story 
brick block on this site, the upper 
story of which he would furnish as a 
hall for the town, to be known as the 
" Town hall," with whatever rooms 
should be desired for public use in the 
other stories, if the town would convey 
to him the old town-house and the land 
upon which it stood. The town ac- 

cepted this proposal, and the present 
block was erected. The " Town hall " 
was finished and furnished in the best 
style. The names of the States were 
painted above the windows, with other 
appropriate decorations. In the sec- 
ond story was a room for the select- 
men, and the watch-house was in the L 
on Essex street. The first three stores 
were occupied b}- James Caldwell, 
Prescott Spalding, and David Peabody 
& Co. , for dry goods ; below was the 
book and chart store of Ebenezer 
Stedman, sign of the golden ball ; the 
store on the corner of Essex street was 
rented by Solomon Davis, for dry 
goods, and the upper rooms were occu- 
pied b}' Sam'l L. Knapp and other law- 
yers and persons, as offices. On the 
lower corner of Essex street was Ste- 
phen Greeley's shoe store. Next came 
the old Clement house. Here, when I 
was a child, a man walked across State 
street on a tight rope, stretched from 
one of its chimneys to that of the 
" Wolfe Tavern," an event which made 
no little sensation in the staid town. 
Below were Osgood & Brackett, shoe 
makers ; John Knowlton, cabinet mak- 
er ; Jonathan Woodman, jr., silver- 
smith ; Merrill's boarding house ; Bar- 
ber Newman's shop ; Ebenezer Dole's 
variety store, and Daniel N. Dole, sil- 
versmith. In the chamber above this 
store Obadiah Pearson worked at tailor- 
ing. The two last stores were those of 
Oilman White, crockery and glass, and 
Moses Cole, painter and gilder. 

George Little, the first of that name 
in Newbury. had two sons, who mar- 
ried two daughters of Tristram Coffin. 
Capt. Joseph married Mary, and Moses 
Lydia. Each of these had a son named 
Tristram. One of these Tristram Lit- 
tles owned the property from Market 



square to Fair street, between Liberty 
and Water streets. On his estate he 
built a princely mansion, which at this 
time stood a little back from State 
street. Though hoary with age, it still 
retained much of its ancient elegance, 
and was the home of two bachelor 
brothers, Michael and Hazen Little, 
descendants of Tristram Little. Tris- 
tram (son of Capt. Joseph Little) mar- 
ried Anna, daughter of 'Stephen Em- 
ery. Their oldest child, Mary Little, 
married Capt. Michael Dalton, whose 
son, Tristram Dalton, was born in 
Newburyport, May 28, 1738, and 
graduated at Harvard University at the 
early age of seventeen. He studied 
law as an accomplishment, the fortune 
which he inherited from his father not 
requiring him to practice it as a pro- 
fession. His wife was Ruth, eldest 
daughter of Robert Hooper, of Mar- 
blehead. Mr. Dalton took a deep in- 
terest in agriculture and horticulture, 
which was shown in the extensive gar- 
den of his residence on State street. 
and his estate on Pi pest a ve hill. West 
Newbury- His was a most hospitable 
mansion ; his town and country houses 
were honored by the presence of the 
distinguished of our own and foreign 
lands as guests. As eminent for piety 
as he was for mental endowments, St. 
Paul's church, of which he was a war- 
den, shared in his generous liberality, 
lie was a representative, speaker of 
the House of Representatives, and a 
senator in the legislature of Massachu- 
setts, and a senator of the l'nit"d 
States in the first congress after the 
adoption of the federal constitution. 
When Washington City was founded, 
Mr. Dalton invested his entire fortune 
in lands there, and lost it by the mis- 
management of a business agent. At 

the same time a vessel, which was 
freighted with his furniture and valua- 
ble library, was lost on the way from 
Newburyport to Washington, and he 
thus found himself, after living sixty 
years in affluence, penniless. Several 
offices of profit and honor were imme- 
diately tendered to him by the govern- 
ment, and he accepted the surveyorship 
of Boston. He died in Boston, May 
30, 1817, and his remains were taken 
to Newburyport, where they were in- 
terred in the burial ground of St. 
Paul's church. 

Round the corner of Middle street 
was James Kirnball's grocery store, 
Whittingham and John Oilman's book 
store, and Nathan Ames, shoemaker. 
Above was the Herald office, Ephraim 
Allen, editor and printer ; beyond was 
the dwelling and milliner's shop of 
Mrs. Jones. Thomas Dodge's house 
and joiner shop, Hannah Bradbury's 
house and milliner shop, and the dwell- 
ing house of Nancy and Eliza Batchel- 
der, milliners. On this street were the 
cabinet and chair making shops of 
Clark Morss, Elijah Bliss, Southy Par- 
ker, Daniel Abbott, E. Dole, G. Parker, 
'and S. Dole ; and the groceries of 
E. Dole, P. Tenney and P. Thiirlo. 
On Market square were Samuel Thomp- 
son, tobacconist, Joseph Lesley's coop- 
er shop. Ed\v:ird Rand's dwelling house 
and hardware store, Daniel Smith and. 
Aaron Davis, apothecaries, Enoch 
Plummer, Ephraim Titcomb and Moses 
Moody, groceries ; Anthony Smith kepi 
hardware and groceries, and Perkins 
& Dean kept two stores for hardware. 
Here were John M. O'Brien's attorney's 
ollice, and Daniel Balch's shop for 
watch making ; James Locke's, Ed- 
ward Toppan, jr's., James Kimball's, 
Francis Todd's, and Samuel Foster's 



dry goods stores ; Edward Little & Go's 
book store ; over this store was Enoch 
Pike's tailoring establishment. The 
office of the Union Insurance Company, 
Stephen Holland, president, and the 
residence of Dr. Bradstreet, were on 
the square, with Thomas Male's hatter's 
shop and two ship chandlery stores be- 
longing to Abner Wood and Major 
Joshua Greenleaf. On Liberty street 
were the residences of Major Joshua 
Greenleaf, Ephraim Allen, and the old 
Emerson house. Below the market, on 
Water street, were John Wood's ware- 
house at the head of Feny wharf, and 
the groceries of Daniel Burnham, Wil- 
liam Baj-le}', Joseph Edwards, Benja- 
min G. Sweetser, Moses Sweet, Moses 
Clark, and Widow Greenleaf ; William 
Boardman kept hardware, groceries, 
paints, etc. Next to Mr. Bay ley's 
grocery was Billy Watkins' property : 
two houses and stores, with two back 
stores. This Billy Watkins, an ec- 
centric old bachelor, was one of the 
notorieties of the town. Below was 
Humphrey Cook's hatter's shop, and 
that of Thomas Lord ; David Moody 
and Thomas Moodj' had malt houses, 
Mrs. Richardson a milliner's shop,* 
Joseph O'Brien's house and store, 
the Harrod house, and Joseph Brown, 
auctioneer. John Hart's tavern, 
Benjamin Appleton's hatter's shop, 
Mann Seward's boarding house, a 
boarding house kept by Hannah Prime, 
Joseph Toppan's house and d^- goods 
store, Stephen Gerrish & Son's house 
mid dry goods store, John Greenough, 
hatter, Clement Star, house and shop, 
T. & A. Wheeler, grocery and board- 
ing house, Benjamin H. Toppan, cop- 
persmith, Timothy T. Ford's house and 
dry goods store, and Capt. Duulap's 
house and shop. At the head of Mar- 

quand's wharf was the residence of 
Joseph Marquand, a spacious and 
handsome mansion ; several of the 
neighboring buildings were his prop- 
erty, and below on the wharf his six 
spacious warehouses. 

Mr. Abraham Jackson's place of 
business was on the corner of Centre 
street, and he had two large ware- 
houses on his wharf. Mr. Joseph 
Moulton and his son William, had a 
large jeweller's and silversmith's shop 
on Broadway. Mr. David Wood 
made clocks, in a shop which was one 
of the front rooms of his dwelling 
house on State street. It was common 
to convert the front room of a house 
into a shop. Most of the smaller 
groceries and variety stores were kept 
in this wa}-. A door led from the 
shop into the living rooms of the fam- 
ily ; thus the mistress of the domicile 
could tend the shop, while attending 
to her household duties. Mr. Wood's 
clocks were the tall, mahogany-cased 
time-keepers then fashionable. The 
dial, in addition to the usual face, was 
furnished with a second hand ; some 
told the day of the month, the maker's 
name being inserted in the centre, 
below a bouquet of roses. These 
clocks were in great demand, scarcely 
a house was without them in all the 
region about. Mr. Samuel T. DeFord 
and Charles L. Emerson carried on a 
large business in hats and furs on 
Merrimac street. Mr. Porter Russell 
Messrs. Edward and Abner Toppan 
did a large business in the manufacture 
and sale of furniture. Mr. Abner 
Toppan had a two ston- shop contig- 
uous to his house on High street. Mr. 
Stephen Toppan on Toppan's lane was 
a distinguished architect and builder. 
Mr. Timothy Palmer was celebrated, 



not only as an architect and carpenter, 
but as a bridge builder ; several of the 
best bridges in the country were from 
his designs. Miss Mary Jenkins' mil- 
linery establishment was in her house 
on Water, corner of Market street. 
Green and Harris streets were now 
lined with handsome houses, most 
of which had been built since my 
recollection. The first house on the 
lower side of Green from High street 
was built by Mr. Potter, who carried 
on a thriving business at cabinet 
making. The next was Mr. Tom. 
Clarke's. The house on the corner of 
Green and Harris, and the next on 
the upper side of Harris street, Mr. 
Leonard Smith built for his two sons, 
John and William, and here the} r had 
recently installed their brides. John 
married Mary, daughter of Jonathan G. 
Parsons, and great-granddaughter of 
Rev. Jonathan Parsons, and William, 
Miss Mary, second daughter of Mr. 
Abraham Jackson. On the corner 
opposite stood the residence of Mr. 
Allen Dodge. Col. John Greenleaf's 
came next, then Mr. Israel Young's. 
That of Jonathan Gage, esq., was on 
the upper corner of Pleasant street, 
and Robert Laird's house and brewery 
were on the one opposite. Below the 
brewery came the Washington Hall 
building. A two-story wooden edifice, 
the hall in the second story, dwellings 
and a school room below. On the 
corner of Water street stood the Gen- 
eral Titcomb house, one of the old and 
splendid colonial mansions now some- 
what lapsed into decay and let as a 
tenement house. The first house on 
the upper side from Brown's square 
was built by Judge Bradbury. After 
he left the town it was purchased by 
Capt. Robert Jenkins. Mr. Joseph 


Cutler built the house above, but at 
this time it was owned and occupied by 
Mr. Abraham Jackson. This gentle- 
man, a descendant from an English 
family of note, was for some years 
one of our first merchants. Mr. 
Jackson twice married. The first 
wife was Mary Mitchell, of Boston, the 
mother of one son, Nathaniel, and two 
daughters, Ann and Mary ; the second, 
Hannah Parsons, granddaughter of 
Rev. Jonathan Parsons, also had one 
son and two daughters, Isaac Rand, 
Ellen and Charlotte. Miss Ann long 
ranked among the brilliant stars of 
society, possessing a vivid imagination 
and much theatrical talent. One who 
ever listened to her thrilling tales, 
would never forget her descriptive 
ability, or her tragic powers. 

Mary, Mrs. William Smith, was one 
of the most attractive of women, pos- 
sessing rare attainments. After her 
husband's death she established a flour- 
ishing seminar}* at Alexandria, D. C., 
where she drew around her the daugh- 
ters of some of the most distinguished 
families in the country ; her house be- 
came the centre for the best society in 
the "District ;" the names of the great- 
est statesmen of the period, and many 
eminent foreigners were enrolled among 
her personal friends. 

Ellen married Admiral George Fred- 
erick Pearson, U. S. Navy. A viva- 
cious and cultivated lady, Mrs. Pearson 
adorned the elevated position to which 
she was called, winning the esteem of 
those with whom she became connected. 
Isaac Rand Jackson died young. At the 
time of his death he was Charge de 
Affairs from United States to Denmark. 
He married Louisa Carroll, granddaugh- 
ter of Charles Carroll of Carrollton. 

Previous to the purchase of the house 



on Green street, Mr. Jackson's resi- 
dence was on Water street, near that 
of Joseph Marquand. When the old- 
est son, Nathaniel, was eighteen, Mr. 
Marquand being a representative at 
the General Court in Boston, young 
Jackson passed the night at his neigh- 
bor's. Before retiring, Mrs. Mar- 
quand would order a large armful of 
wood and some half dozen mould can- 
dles, then bid the young man good 
night, with the remark: "Now, Nat, 
read just as long as you please." 

In the Revolutionary war one of Mr. 
Marquand's prizes contained a librar} T , 
the property of the Governor-General 
of Canada, which that dignitary had 
forwarded to England preparatory to 
following himself. Naturally a devour- 
er of books, this large collection of the 
best authors was a rare treat, and night 
after night the visitor, forgetting time, 
pored over the pages, which often were 
of the old fashioned brownish paper, 
and fine type, until his e3'esight entire- 
ly failed. This weakness of the eyes, 
changed his whole career. He left his 
father's counting room, and, as super- 
cargo, entered upon a life on the "ocean 
wave." For years foreign lands and 
tongues were more familiar than his 
own. He became an apt business man, 
a distinguished linguist, a remarkably 
well informed and most accomplished 
gentleman. His knowledge of Spanish 
was such that in the war of 1812, while 
sailing under Spanish colors, he was 
kept three da}"s on board of a British 
man-of-war without disclosing his na- 
tionally, though every artifice was used 
to catch him off his guard. On the 
third day he was permitted to return to 
his ship, which proceeded on its course. 
Some time after having been captured, 
Mr. Jackson, when on parole in London, 

met an officer of the vessel in which he 
had been detained. This Lieutenant 
had striven by every device to startle 
young Jackson into some unguarded 
exclamation, but without avail. In- 
stantly recognizing the pseudo Span- 
iard, he gave his hand with a cordial 
greeting, exclaiming " I knew you was 
a Yankee all the time, who ever saw a 
blue-eyed Spaniard ? But you was such 
a deuce of a clever fellow we could not 
detain you." 

Mr. Jackson married, in Gottcnlmrg, 
Miss Johanna Tod, a lady of Swedish 
birth, but of Scottish parentage. His 
eyes having regained their strength he 
ceased his wanderings. At his house 
in Newburyport he often entertained 
distinguished foreigners. Bishop Chev- 
ereaux, on his visits to the place, never 
left without calling to enjoj" a chat in 
his native tongue ; later several young 
men from the Spanish West India 
islands availed themselves of his in- 
struction in learning English. The 
tidings that Nat. Jackson had contract- 
ed a marriage abroad made no small 
stir amongst the belles of Newbury- 
port, but time showed the wisdom of 
his choice. Lovely, devoted, well did 
Mrs. Jackson fulfil the vow to love 
and cherish for better for worse, for 
richer for poorer, in sickness and in 
health. The friend and companion, as 
well as the watchful and judicious 
mother of her children, a kind neigh- 
bor and faithful friend, none knew her 
but to love her. To the choice circle 
admitted to her intimacy, she became 
dear as a sister, and the j-outhful com- 
panions of her sons and daughters, will 
ever cherish the memory of one, who, 
by her grace and urbanity, her sympa- 
thetic interest in their joys and griefs, 
her many little devices for their enter- 



tainment and amusement, made so 
many sunn}* hours, which will ever 
gleam undimmed amidst the recollec- 
tions of the past. 

Capt. and Mrs. Jackson reared a gifted 
family of four sons and three daughters. 
The second daughter married Capt. 
Joseph C. Hoyt, one of the most suc- 
cessful ship masters of Newburyport, 
who died on the 5th of June, 1880. 
Andrew, the second son, died in boy- 
hood. Thomas the eldest, and Cor- 
nelius Soucha}', the youngest, settled in 
St. Louis, where both died, the former in 
middle life, the latter in early manhood. 
Highly beloved and respected, a large 
circle, both at the east and wst, mourn 
their early death. To the versatilit} T 
of talent, hereditary in the family, to 
Souchay was given a fine artistic genius, 
a Hogarthian power to portray, with 
lifelike vividness, as if- by magic, the 
persons and scenes around him, slight 
pencil sketches, but these depict a pow- 
er that needed only practice, to have 
placed him amongst the most eminent 
of world-renowned artists. Nathaniel, 
the third son, won a brilliant record in 
the war of the rebellion. Entering the 
army as Colonel of the first Maine regi- 
me irt, three months men, he continued 
in the service, after the return of the 
regiment. Wounded at the battle of 
Games' Mills, he was promoted to the 
rank of Brigadier-General for his 
gallantry. He accompanied Sherman 
through his Southern campaign, leaving 
the army, at the end of the war, with 
the rank of Major-General by brevet. 

The arms of Jackson (Southgate) 
co. Middlesex, are : 


The next house, on the corner of 
Green and Union (now Washington) 
street, was built by Capt. Babson, from 
Gloucester, who came to Newburyport 
for business facilities. It was pur- 
chased by Col. Fowle, and after his 
decease it was occupied by Joseph Cut- 
ler, who married Col. Fowle's widow. 
Mr. Cutler, the cashier of the Merri- 
jnac Bank, died suddenly, early in the 
present century. The lower half of 
the house, at the time of Mr. Cutler's 
death, was occupied by Mrs. Cutler's 
nephew, Mr. Joseph Hooper. This 
gentleman, a grandson of Robert, com- 
monly styled "King" Hooper, of Mar- 
blehcad, and Benjamin Hams, the dis- 
tinguished merchant of Newburyport, 
and son of Joseph Hooper, the royalist, 
was born after his father went to Eng- 
land. In several ways this young man 
was despoiled of a large fortune. His 
father's property was confiscated by 
government ; his furniture had been 
previously burned by his indignant 
townsmen; through treachery and 



fraud he lost an estate in Boston, on 
Pemberton hill, which by right belonged 
to his mother. Pemberton square has 
been laid out on this property. Noth- 
ing daunted, Mr. Hooper gathered the 
remnants of his patrimony and opened 
a crockery store in Blunt's building, 
State street. Soon after he was united 
in marriage with Miss Man' Whitmore, 
the daughter of Col. Joseph Whitmore, 
a veteran of the Revolution, whose 
residence was on Fair street. Mr. and 
Mrs. Hooper reared a large and highly- 
talented family of sons and daughters. 
Afterwards Mr. Hooper occupied the 
three-story house on Washington, near 
Boardman street, for some }-ears the 
residence of Enoch S. Williams, esq. 
In the rear of this house, Mr. Williams 
established the first comb factory in the 
place, and in this house Mr. and Mrs. 
Hooper's fourth daughter, Luc}', the 
able writer, was born. Though she 
passed from earth in early womanhood, 
her name had become enrolled among 
the sweet singers and celebrated au- 
thors of America. 

The Hooper coat of arms are : 





The Harris arms are : 


Mrs. Joseph Cutler, as Miss Alice 
Hooper, had been a celebrated beauty. 
Her portrait, by Copley, has excited 
universal admiration. The lady is 
painted in a dress of blue satin, with 
antique bodice, full skirt, and demi- 
open sleeves, finished by double lace 
ruffles, with stomacher to match, neck- 

lace and ear-jewels of pearls, hair 
brushed from the forehead and turned 
over a roll at the back. One hand 
hangs gracefully at her side, the other, 
outstretched, catches the sparkling 
drops from an old-fashioned aqueduct. 
Beyond is a wood, lighted b}' a shim- 
mer of sunset glow ; through openings 
the 03*6 catches glimpses of an open 
country, stretching far in the distance, 
with a gleaming horizon, barred by 
ruddy cloud streaks. Words are inad- 
equate to describe the perfection of 
this painting. The shadow of the lace 
upon the arm is a wonderful specimen 
of art, and one listens to hear the tin- 
kle of thd fountain, or stoops to catch 
the pellucid drops from the maiden's 
fair hand. 

Newburyport at that time was rich in 
Coplej-'s paintings. Mr. Joseph Hoop- 
er had a likeness of his father, and Mrs. 
Nathaniel Tracy, whose maiden name 
was Mary Lee, niece of Mrs. Robert 
Hooper, had life-size portraits of her 
father and mother. The p'air are painted 
in the dress fashionable at the time of 
their marriage. Mrs. Lee is depicted 
coming from a garden laden with roses. 
These are magnificent pictures. I have 
been told that the artist ranked them 
among his very best. The onlj- picture 
by this distinguished artist at present 
remaining in the city of which I have 
any knowledge, is a pastel, half size 
portrait of the third daughter of Rob- 
ert, or "King" Hooper of Marble- 
head, Rebecca, wife of Lewis Jenkins. 
Mr. Jenkins for years kept a dry goods 
store on State, corner of P^ssex street, 
at the sign of the golden ball. He died 
in 1799. The portrait is that of a 
young lad}' in the dress of the period, 
cut low, square in the bosom, and 
trimmed with rich lace, the hair turned 



over a roll, and ornamented by flowers. 
The face and figure present the delicate 
beauty, and high bred grace which 
characterized the ladies of the Hooper 
family. This picture has descended to 
a grandniece, Mrs. Caroline (Gallis- 
han) Currier of Belleville. Eobert, or 
King, Hooper was born in Marblehead. 
His father came from Wiltshire, Eng- 
land, amongst the earliest settlers of 
this country. Robert married Ruth, 
daughter of Mr. Joseph Barnard 
Swett, a prominent merchant. They 
had six sons and four daughters, Mrs. 
Dalton, Mrs. Cutler, Mrs. Jenkins, 
the fourth. Hannah, who married a 
White, His son Stephen owned the 
"Hooper farm," on Pipestave hill, 
afterwards purchased by my uncle 
John Coker. Mr. Robert Hooper was 
one of the principal founders of Mar- 
blehead prosperit}-. His fellow-towns- 
men held him in high esteem, and 
styled him ' ' King Hooper, " as a mark 
of honor. Mr. Hooper owned a fine 
country seat" in Danvers, which is 
now the property of Mr. Francis Pea- 
body. This was a magnificent estate, 
one of the handsomest of the grand old 
colonial mansions, with appointments 
and grounds to match ; the place was 
lamed for its beautiful trees. The 
walls of the best rooms were hung with 
tapestry, and the furnishings equalled 
it in splendor. At the commencement 
of the Revolutionary war the British 
for a time quartered troops upon the 
place, and so well was it stocked with 
all that was requisite for man and 
beast, that the soldiers were not 
obliged to go elsewhere for supplies. 

Though his son Joseph chose to re- 
main loyal to King George, Robert 
Hooper was a true patriot. At the 
beginning of the war he refused the 

offer to be made King's Commissioner, 
an extremely lucrative situation. 

The Rev. John Pierpont, during his 
residence in Newburyport, occupied 
the Cutler house for a time. 

On the upper corner of Green and 
Union streets, was the mansion built by, 
Judge Parsons, then owned and oc- 
cupied by Leonard Smith. Mrs. Smith 
was a sister of General Peabod}-. Mr. 
Smith at that time ranked amongst our 
wealthiest and most active merchants. 
Above came the long, low school-house 
I have mentioned. The corner border- 
ing on High street was an open field. 
The first of the three-story houses on 
Harris street, from Green, was built 
and at that time occupied by Obadiah 
Parsons, the second by Samuel Dole, 
the last, next to State, b}- Capt. Sam- 
uel Chase. 

The lower side of Tyng street and 
Toppan's lane formed the dividing line 
of Newburyport from Newbury. The 
house on the corner of High and Tyng 
streets was built by Thomas Cokcr, who 
also built the house on the upper cor- 
ner, in Newbury ; the one below, down 
Tyng street, was .built by Humphrey 
Webster. The second on High was 
the residence of Abner Toppan ; the 
tlnve-stoiy on the corner of 
High and Broad streets was built b}- 
Moses Fraiser, esq. ; at this time it was 
owned and occupied by Capt. Jacob 
Greenleaf. The next, on Broad street, 
was built by Capt. Moses Goodrich; 
the one In-low by Thomas (Joker. this 
gentleman was the father of my uncle 
.John Coker, of West Newbury. At 
this time the house was owned and 
occupied by a Mr. Brown. The hand- 
some residence of Tom. Thomas came 
next ; below that, Moses Coffin, the 
lather of Mr. Emery and Col. Fred- 


erick Coffin, had built a three-story 
house ; further clown was the residence 
of Capt. Fletcher. 

Mt. Rural, the estate of Dr. Josiah 
Smith, bordered the upper side of High 
street, from Toppan's lane nearly to 
.Kent street ; fields intervened to Com- 
mon pasture lane, now Johnson street. 
The first house on the lower side below 
Broad was the residence of Dr. Bond ; 
the next had recently been erected by 
William Swain ; the brick house on the 
corner of Kent street was built and 
owned by Messrs. Enoch and Ste- 
phen Toppan : a field separated Kent 
from Buck street. Capt. Buck's hand- 
some brick house was on the lower cor- 
ner of Buck street ; Mr. Woodman's be- 
low. Opposite, on the lower corner of 
Pasture lane, was the new three-stor}- 
house of Capt. William Hoyt ; below 
was the residence of Capt. Charles 
Goodrich ; next came the elegant man- 
sion of John Tracy ; below was the 
Dexter house, then Caldwell's tavern. 
On the lower corner of Olive street 
stood the old Frotiiingham house, the 
birth place of the wife of Lord Tim- 
othy Dexter ; below, came the Bassett 
house and the residence of Mr. Porter 
Russell. A house owned by Mr. Wil- 
liams was on the upper corner of 
Boardmtui street; and Capt. Lunt's on 
the lower. The elegant residence of 
Dr. James Morse, rector of St. Paul's 
church, came next ; below were the 
handsome mansions of Capt. Tristram 
Coffin, Capt. William Fans, Mr. Ab- 
ner Wood and Jonathan Pettingell. 
The old Pettingell house was below on 
the upper corner of Winter street. 
Nrxt to the Dexter house garden, on 
the upper side, was theTitcomb house, 
and a two-story house, built, I believe, 
bj' a Mr. Somerby ; next was the rec- 

tor}- of St. Paul's parish, at that period 
occupied by the widow of Bishop Bass. 
Below were the handsome three-story 
houses built and occupied by Capt. 
W}-att and Samuel A. Otis, esq. ; next 
came the Carey house, the former resi- 
dence of the Rev. Thomas Carey of 
the first church ; Mr. Philip Bagley's, 
Enoch Toppan's. and that of Deacon 
Parker followed, with the Cooper and 
Packard houses. Below Star alley was 
the Horton house and a row of old 
style domiciles ; on the 'corner next the 
mall stood the mansion of Daniel Farn- 
ham, esq. Jacqb W. Pierce occupied 
the house on the lower corner of Winter 
street ; next came the Marsh . house 
and the old Bailey place ; below, St. 
Paul's church and church-yard. On 
the opposite corner of Mai'ket street 
was the Morse house, famous in the 
annals of witchcraft, a picturesque old 
fashioned building painted red ; below 
came the Hodge house, and the resi- 
dence of Dr. Adams on the upper cor- 
ner of Court street. Below the mall, 
on the upper side, were the residences 
of William Moulton and William Green- 
leaf, the academy and the handsome 
mansions on the ridge, Judge Liver- 
more's, Capt. Abraham Wheelwright's, 
Mr. Stocker's, Capt. Eben Wheel- 
wright's, Deacon Solomon Haskell's, 
Richard Pike's. Capt. John O'Brien's. 
Capt. Philip Coombs', and Elias Hunt's. 
The old Prout house and that of Capt. 
Benjamin Pierce stood below. Dr. 
Charles Coffin's was the 'last house be- 
fore crossing the Newbury line. 

On the lower side the first house 
from Newbury was that of Samuel Mil- 
liken ; then came Capt. Micajah Lunt's, 
the old Tom Cross house, Capt. Sam- 
uel Swett's, Anthony Davenport's, and 
Capt. Holland's, on the lower corner of 



Federal street. Fields stretched from 
Federal to the lower side of State 
street; the old Buntin house stood 
on the upper corner. The four- 
story brick block on Brown's square 
had been recently built. On Market 
street were the handsome residences of 
the Hortons, Stephen Frothingham, 
Edmund Bartlett, and Capt. Isaac 
Stone. The Hoyt mansion was on 
Boardman street, with the Johnson's, 
Gallishan's, and Capt. Pulsifer's. Mr. 
Butler Abbott had a handsome estab- 
lishment on Kent street ; Capt. Sam- 
uel Baile3 T 's residence was on Spring 
street. Captains Eleazer and William 
P. Johnson, William Coombs, and 
William Bartlett, esq., occupied hand- 
some houses on Federal street. Capt. 
Nicholas Johnson had recently pur- 
chased the large brick house on the 
Boston turnpike, built by William 
Wooart, esq ; Mr. Seth Sweetser built 
and occupied the one below. Capt. 
John Coombs resided on Water, corner 
of Lime street ; Judge Greeuleaf 's 
residence was on the corner of Union 
and Titcomb streets. The At wood 
house stood on Lime, corner of At wood 
street. Besides the residences I have 
named, there were many others, both 
spacious and elegant, scattered through- 
out the town. A stable was attached 
to the better class of houses, and many 
of the more common had a barn for the 
accommodation of a cow if not a 
horse. Most families had one or more 
cows, which in summer were pastured 
in the upper or lower common ; when 
returning home at nightfall they made 
quite a drove. The more prominent 
citizens usually had a horse, and some 
kept a coach and span. 

There were three Masonic lodges : 
St. John's, St. Peter's and St Mark's. 

St. Peter's occupied Washington hall ; 
I think St. John's assembled in Madi- 
son hall in the Pha'iiix building, and 
that St. Mark's joined with St. Peter's. 

Samuel Bartlett, a younger brother 
of Col. Bartlett, occupied the lower half 
of his house. Mr. S;umiel Bartlett was 
a Mason. When I was a child the breth- 
ren often assembled at his residence. 
The}- occupied the front chamber, where 
they would keep up a most tremendous 
racket until a late hour. 

Mrs. Bartlett was a delicate woman 
with small children, and my aunt was 
subject to nervous headaches. I won- 
dered that they bore the infliction with 
any patience. For myself I obtained a 
great dislike to the order, and firmly 
believed in the red hot gridiron and 
every other diabolical invention. 


At this time the old English style 
had not wholly passed from society ; 
there was more of precedent and caste 
than now. 

The professional men and their fam- 
ilies held the first rank, then came the 
merchants, town and national officers, 
shipmasters, the more prominent and 
wealthy mechanics, etc. Politics sepa- 
rated the elite ; though sometimes meet- 
ing on common ground, usually there 
was but slight social fraternization. 
There were Federal and Jacobin clubs, 
military companies, balls and parties. 
One lady would not call upon another 
of the opposite party ; gentlemen were 
scarcely civil to each other ; much ran- 
cor, bitterness and scorn were shown 
upon both sides. The artillery company 



were Jacobins, the " Silver Greys" 
Federalists. The leading Jacobins were 
Capt. Benjamin Pierce, the O'Briaus, 
Mr. Marquand, Capt. Russell, Dr. 
Smith, of Mt. Rural, the Williams 
family, Capt. Richards, and others. 

Most of my town relatives were 
Federalists. Through my Johnson, 
Little and Smith ancestry, I was con- 
nected with the Johnsons, Crosses, 
Coombs', Wheelwrights, Noyes', Bart- 
lotts. and other of older families. At 
their residences, and those of my uncles 
Peabod\' and Bartlet, I met. the most 
brilliant stars in the Federalist galaxy. 
My great-uncle Daniel Johnson was 
the black sheep amongst his Federalist 
brethren. At Gov. Gerry's election 
the opposition got up all sorts of slurs : 
one was a caricature called a " Gerry- 
mander." Uncle Daniel took pains to 
procure a copy which he sent to me. 
The Democratic party also had the 
ascendency in the legislature. In 1812 
the old senatorial districts were re- 
arranged, and the Federalists, in de- 
rision, drew this figure, as representing 
Essex county : 

J\ Gerrymander, 

The picture uncle Johnson sent to me 
was in the Newburyport Herald, and 
covered two-thirds of one page of that 

The Embargo Act wholly disarranged 
the business of Newburyport ; for a 
time it brought much suffering. It was 
but natural that opposition to the pol- 
icy of the administration should be 
nearly universal. On the first anniver- 
sary of the passage of the act, the flags 
were hung at half mast, the bells were 
tolled, and minute guns were fired : 
while a procession of sailors bearing 
crape on their arms marched through 
the streets, headed by a dismantled 
vessel drawn by horses on a cart. This 
craft bore a flag inscribed : " Death to 
Commerce." On the quarter-deck 
stood a sailor with a glass in his hand, 
and a painted motto bore the words : 
"Which way shall I steer?" Occa- 
sionally the sailor threw the lead. Op- 
posite the custom house he delivered an 
address appropriate for the day and 
the Federalist party. 

In 1809 the Embargo gave place to 
the Xon-Intercourse Act. Negotia- 
tions with Great Britain followed, 
which resulted in the release of our 
citizens impressed into her service. 
In 1810 France repealed her conti- 
nental decrees. Business revived, and 
shipbuilding again became active. 

The brilliant coterie of which Judge 
Parsons, and his law students, Robert 
Treat Paine, Rufus King. John Quincy 
Adams and other talented 3"oung men, 
the Jacksons, Daltons, Trace's, Green- 
leafs, Hoopers, and other distinguished 
families, the Misses Fraiser, Atkins, 
Searle, Bradbury, Farnham, Thomas, 
Jenkins, and other belles and beauties, 
who graced the assemblies at the old 
Tabernacle in Temple street, in my 



mothers girl-hood, had been succeeded 
by another generation. Of the clerg} r - 
men's families, the three daughters of 
Parson Giles had just entered society. 
Dr. Andrew's oldest son was in col- 
lege and Margaret was in her teens. 
Dr. Spring's oldest sons were also 
collegians. Dr. Dana's and Parson 
Milton's children were small. Dr. 
Morss had recently married Miss 
Martha Boardman. Dr. Micajah Saw- 
yer was the senior physician, his two 
daughters, Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Schuy- 
ler, had been married several years. 
I vividly recall the grandeur of their 
nuptials. Dr. Francis Vergnies, a 
Frenchman, a physician of much skill, 
and extensive practice, lived and died 
a bachelor. His home for many years 
was on the lower corner of Union, 
(now Washington,) and Market streets. 
Dr. Nathan Noyes had married Miss 
Mary Niles, of Hanover, N. H., and 
established himself in Newburyport, 
where he was fast becoming a celebrity. 
Dr. Bricket, had moved into town from 
the lower parish in Newbury, where he 
still had a large practice. Dr. Pres- 
cott, who had recently established him- 
self in the place, with his wife and 
lovely daughters, was fast acquiring a 
wide spread popularity. Dr. Johnson, 
a young man and unmarried, had just 
received his diploma. 

Theophilus Bradbury, judge of the 
Supreme Court of Massachusetts, died 
in 1803. Judge Parsons, when a stu- 
dent, read law in the office of Theoph- 
ilus Bradbury, who was a member of 
Congress from this district during 
Washington's administration. 

Judge Livermore was then the oldest 
and the most distinguished of the legal 
fraternity of the town ; he was also 
our representative to Congress. His 


daughter, Miss Harriet Livermore, 
from childhood had been noted for 
eccentricity ; her singular conduct and 
conversation was a frequent topic for 

William B . Bannister esq. , had recent- 
ly formed a partnership with Edward 

Tom Carey, the son of the late Eev. 
Thomas Carey, a talented, highly edu- 
cated, polished and entertaining young 
man, would probably have acquired a 
high reputation, had he not, like too 
many others of that generation, suc- 
cumbed to the demon of dissipation. 
Possessed of wealth, a handsome per- 
son, pleasing address and rare accom- 
plishments and culture, with a power 
of adapting himself to any society, 
great wit, humor and generosity, not- 
withstanding his convivial proclivities, 
as yet he held posts of trust and honor, 
gentlemen hailed him as the prince of 
good fellows, and ladies, with whom he 
was a general favorite, smiled their 
sweetest at his approach. 

One evening, Tom Carey and a num- 
ber of other young men had been hold- 
ing an orgie, in a low tavern near Mar- 
ket square. About midnight they sal- 
lied forth, "half seas over." The 
northern sky was brilliant with an au- 
rora, but in their muddled condition 
Tom's companions took it for a fire at 
the north end, and commenced to give 
an alarm. " Shtop, shtop, " cried Tom, 
"don't scream, its only the Rora Bo- 
lis, keep to the west, keep to the 
west !" The next afternoon, sobered 
and shaved, curled, powdered and 
cued, in fine broadcloth, Wellington 
boots, bell crowned beaver, kid gloves 
and gold headed cane, Mr Care}- ac- 
companied by Dr. Spring, as school 
committee, was making the round of 



the schools. As they passed down 
State street, old Morrill, a rough, saucy 
blackguard, stood at the door of his 
boarding house, and esp} r ing the pair, 
he shouted, " Keep to the west Mr. 
Care}% keep to the west. " Tom had 
the grace to color, while his compan- 
ion looked the curiosit}* he was too 
polite to form into a question. Mr. 
Carey passed the matter by some re- 
mark, and for a time it was noticed 
he was remarkably circumspect in his 
conduct, but the story became current, 
and " keep to the west, " remained a 
jest for a long time. 

William H. Prince, Ebenezer Mose- 
ley, Sam L. Knapp. John Scott and 
Moody Noyes, were all young lawyers 
boarding at Coburn's Hotel in the Tra- 
cy House. Tom Carey also boarded 
with Coburn. This bevy of }'oung 
attorneys were a special attraction to 
the belles of the period. The previ- 
ous Fourth of Juby Squire Mosele}~ de- 
livered an oration in the Pleasant 
street meeting-house ; there was a pro- 
cession, fine music, and a grand gala 
through the day and evening. Young 
Moseley acquited himself with great 
eclat and some of the enthusiastic 
misses plaited a crown of laurels as a 
gift for the orator, but not having the 
courage to present it, he never knew 
the proposed honor, though ever after 
he was known amongst them as the 
" laurel crowned Demosthenes. " 

Sam L. Knapp was a splendid man, 
the prince of beaux, winning his way as 
by enchantment, particularly distin- 
guished as a belles-lettres scholar, he 
wielded the pen of a read}' writer, his 
imagination was vivid, his power of 
description graphic, his conversation 
both brilliant and instructive. 

Moody Noyes, a promising young 

man, modest and retiring in society, 
died young. Jacob Gerrish was 
another A'oung lawyer, and Stephen 
Hooper, a son of Mr. Stephen Hoop- 
er of the Pipe-stave hill farm. 

Messrs. Clark, Chandler and Ad- 
ams, Archibald McPhail, AsaW. Wildes, 
Benjamin A. Gould, George Tit- 
comb and Joseph Gleason, the editor 
and publisher of the "Statesman," 
the Democratic newspaper, were favor- 
ites in society. Arthur Gilman, John 
Porter, David Peabody, George Pea- 
body, Francis B. Somerby, Edward 
Toppan jr., Joseph Huse, George 
Cross, Oliver and Prescott Spalding, 
Abner, William, James, John and 
Alexander Caldwell, and their cousin 
William Caldwell, Moses Osgood, 
John Chickering, Jonathan Coolidge, 
Henry Frothingham, John R. Hudson, 
Edward S. and Isaac Rand, Isaac 
Hand Jackson, Joseph Marquand, 
Joshua Aubin, Sewell Toppan, Joseph 
Abraham, Robert and William Wil- 
liams, Nathaniel, John, William, 
Thomas, Leonard and David Smith, 
Samuel T. DeFord, Simeon Wade, 
Eben and Charles Hale, Nathaniel 
Greeley, the Johnsons, Greenleafs, 
Stones, Noyes, Balches, of Newbury- 
port, Joseph Balch of Belleville, Jo- 
seph T. Pike, David, Abner and Jeny, 
sons of Abuer Wood, William and 
George, sons of the widow Wood, 
were prominent among the rising 
young men. George Wood after- 
wards became a well known author. 
Besides these ja number of our young 
men were engaged in business in for- 
eign ports, or as masters or supercar- 
goes of ships ; amongst these were 
Capt. Nathaniel Jackson, Captains 
John and Benjamin Harrod, Capt. 
Green Sanborn, and Capt. Richards. 



Capt. Nathaniel Jackson had just 
brought home his lovely wife. This 
lad}', her infant son, and his Swedish 
nurse, clad in the costume of her 
country, attracted much attention. 
Mr. and Mrs. John Dean and Jacob 
W. Pierce and wife were young, married 
people. Nicholas Johnson had re- 
cently led to the alter Miss Sarah, old- 
est daughter of Mr. Anthony Daven- 
port. John and William Smith had 
just established their brides in their 
elegant homes. These ladies with 
Mrs. Tom Thomas, Mrs. Thomas 
Hooper, who was a daughter of Judge 
Bradbury, Miss Ann Jackson, Mr. 
Leonard Smith's niece, Hitty Smith, 
and his daughter Sarah, were the 
acknowledged queens of society. 

The three daughters of Dr. Smith 
of Mount Rural, Miss Mary, Hannah, 
Judith, and Caroline Little, and the six 
daughters of Mr. John Balch of Belle- 
ville, Mr. Joseph Williams' only daugh- 
ter Caroline, Mr. John Tracy's daugh- 
ters Margaret, Mary, Elizabeth and 
Catharine, the daughters of the late 
Nathaniel Tracy, Louisa and Helen, 
Miss Sukey Fowle, and Miss Sally 
Cutler, Mr. Daniel Balch's daughters, 
the Misses Searle, Harrod, Frothing- 
ham, Johnson, White, Wheelwright, 
Marquand, Davenport, Stocker, Faris, 
Greenleaf, Wood and Pierce, Miss Sa- 
rah Hale, Maj. David! Coffin's only 
daughter Mary, Mr. Moses Brown's 
only daughter Mary, Miss Margaret 
Andrews, the Misses Giles, Miss Mary 
Ann Oxnard, Hannah Bartlett, Betsey 
Lawrence, Martha, Sally and Katie 
Caldwell, and their cousin Sally Cald- 
well, Sophronia Peabody and her cous- 
in Sophia, the youngest daughter of 
Leonard Smith were the most promi- 
nent belles. Miss Lydia Osgood, the 

youngest daughter of Deacon Osgood 
of the upper parish Newbury, was a 
general favorite in this circle ; no fes- 
tivity was complete without her. 

Miss Ann Thaxter, a step daughter 
of Joshua Carter, had been married a 
short time previous to Nathaniel Par- 
sons of Boston. In his visits to his fi- 
ancee Mr. Parsons created a sensation 
in the neighborhood, as he dashed to 
the door, in his coach and four, with a 
darkey in livery holding the ribbons, 
and the splendor of the wedding was 
long remembered. After the bride had 
become settled in her city home, her 
two intimate friends, Mary Brown and 
Sophronia Peabody, paid her a visit. 
The house, which was near Bowdoin 
square, was a large brick structure ; a 
gateway led through a paved court to a 
spacious stable. Over this gateway 
from an arched iron railing was suspen- 
ed a square glass lantern. This was cus- 
tomary at that period, at the better 
class mansions. The interior of the 
house was magnificent both in propor- 
tion and finish. Mirrors were inserted 
in the drawing room doors to enhance 
the effect. The furniture had been im- 
ported expressly for the house, it was 
both rich and stylish ; glittering chan- 
deliers, and other ornaments embel- 
lished the rooms ; the silken canopy to 
the bed in the guest chamber, was 
gathered around an oval mirror set in 
the centre of the arched top. The 
whole mansion was resplendent with 
French luxury and novel elegance. 

The first class .dwellings of New- 
buryport, were mostly square struct- 
ures, three stories in height, or of two 
stories with dormer windows in the 
roof ; some were gambrel roofed houses. 
There were generally four rooms on 
the lower floor, a spacious hall from 



which a flight of broad, low stairs, with 
elaborate^ carved balusters led to the 
story above. Usually an L was at- 
tached for an outer kitchen, and a 
court yard, frequently flagged, led to a 
stable beyond. Gardens were attached 
to most residences, those on the upper 
side of High street usually had exten- 
sive grounds. The heavj- claw-footed 
furniture of a previous date had been 
followed by lighter, in the French 
style. Stiff looking, slender legged 
chairs and sofas were primly ranged 
round the room, with card table to 
match in the piers ; these sometimes 
had marble tops. Above them hung 
large Dutch mirrors. Often the walls 
were adorned with one or more family 
portraits ; these though not Coply's 
were usually good pictures. The 
French Revolution had sent many ref- 
ugees to our shores who had been com- 
pelled to turn their talents and accom- 
plishments to account. Mr. Moses 
Cole painted fine portraits, and he was 
well patronized by his townsmen. An 
engraving of the Washington family 
was a favorite picture that could have 
been seen in mam' houses. Carpets 
had come much more generally into 
use. The Turkey carpets bordered 
and fringed had given place to those 
from English looms, though Turkej* 
rugs were still highly esteemed. Very 
pretty carpets in striped patterns of 
home construction had become fashion- 
able, and those from rags for common 
use were often seen. 

The dining or sitting room almost 
invariably held a large mahogony side- 
board. Beneath generall}- stood an or- 
namental liquor case, and upon the top 
were some half dozen cut-glass decan- 
ters filled with wine, brandy and other 
liquors ; these were flanked by trays of 

wine glasses and tumblers. The old 
fashioned silver tankard had become 
obsolete, but a display of silver tumb- 
lers was considered desirable. The 
chambers were still furnished with 
hangings to the bedsteads, but bureaus 
had supplanted, the case of drawers. 
In mam T mansions stairs led from the 
china closet to a private cellar, which 
usually was well stocked with choice 
wines and liquors. Our foreign trade 
gave facility for obtaining the best 
brands ; few families were without a 
larger or smaller suppl}". Cider was 
put in the common cellar and used as 
freely as water. On one occasion Mr. 
Nathaniel Tracy caught his negro serv- 
ing man carousing with a brother darkey 
in the wine cellar, drinking "to better 
times" from a silver goblet brimming 
with choice old Bordeaux. Chaises 
were now in general use ; there were a 
few barouches ; four-wheeled wagons 
were superseding the two-wheeled 
spring cart. Coaches drawn by two 
horses, sometimes four, were the fash- 
ionable equipage ; several were kept 
by families in the town. 

The attire fashionable for a gentle- 
man at that period was similar to that 
I have described as worn by Tom Ca- 
rey. Small clothes were still stylish 
for evening parties and balls. The 
French mode prevailed in the costume 
of the ladies. Short, scant ruffled 
skirts, short waists ; for }"oung ladies 
short sleeves, and low necks, especially 
so in the bosom ; an under handker- 
chief fitted so neatly it was scarcely 
discernable, and tuckers finished the 
neck. Long gloves, sashes, and a 
great variety of ornaments were worn 
in full dress. The hair was worn high, 
often the back hair having been divid- 
ed, half fell in curls on the neck while 



the remainder was wound round the 
comb ; at other times it was wholly 
braided and twisted into a crown upon 
the head, the front hair clustered in 
short curls over the forehead or on the 
temples. The elder ladies wore vari- 
ously fashioned caps and turbans. Ear 
jewels were universal!} 7 worn. The 
strings of gold beads so general in my 
mother's girlhood were then deemed 
old-fashioned ; necklaces and chains 
had taken their place ; often a minia- 
ture painted on ivory set in gold was 
worn on the chain. Both my Aunt 
Peabody and Bartlett had good like- 
nesses of their husbands, which were 
fine paintings. Brooches, bracelets and 
rings were of various patterns, some 
exceedingly elegant in design. Rich 
thread laces were much in demand, and 
linen cambric. The gentlemen's shirt 
bosoms were ruffled with this fabric. 
Silk bonnets were worn, but straw was 
the style. A black satin cloak with 
cape and sleeves was the usual out- 
doors garment for older ladies, for the 
younger, silk pelisses in fancy colors 
were fashionable ; both reached below 
the knee and were finished by a trim- 
ming of black lace. Long cloth wrap- 
pers were made for common wear. 
White dresses were worn entirely by 
3'oung ladies when in full dress, and 
usually on Sunda}'s. However cold 
the weather or wet the walking a white 
cambric, with a green, blue, or lilac 
silk pelisse, a straw bonnet trimmed to 
match, white silk stockings and kid 
slippers of the same hue of the pelisse, 
or cork soled morocco walking shoes, 
with a sable muff and tippet, was the 
street dress of a young lady of ton. 
Muslins and gauzes over under dresses 
of satin, with rich trimmings of lace, 
ribbon, spangles, bugles etc., were the 

mode for evening attire. Silks were 
seldom worn excepting by older ladies, 
and woolen fabrics were only admissi- 
ble for home wear. A deal of fun was 
made of Mr. John Balch's daughters, 
because their mother very sensibly com- 
pelled them to wear crimson bomba- 
zette dresses to a party one snapping 
winter night, with the thermometer be- 
low zero. On pleasant days fashiona- 
ble ladies devoted the morning to call- 
ing or receiving visitors. Cake and 
wine were invariably handed to the 

One o'clock was the dinner hour for 
all classes. At the first stroke of the 
bells of the Pleasant and Federal street 
churches the streets were filled with a 
hungry throng rushing homeward. 
There was little ceremonious visiting of 
an afternoon, unless invitations had 
been issued for a tea party. At these 
the ladies assembled from four to five 
o'clock, Tea was served at six. 

In most families there was a boy or 
girl bound to service until the age of 
eighteen. When the hour arrived this 
young servant passed round napkins 
upon a salver ; next a man or maid 
servant bore round the tray of cups, 
the younger waiter following with the 
cream and sugar. Bread and butter 
and cake succeeded, these were passed 
round two or three times, and the 
younger servant stood, salver in hand, 
ready to take the cups to be replen- 
ished. If the gentlemen came to tea, 
and this was the only refreshment, 
sliced ham or tongue were usually add- 
ed, but often there would be a hot meat 
supper at nine or ten o'clock. This 
was a customary meal in many fami- 
lies. In Mr. Leonard Smith's family 
it was as regular as either of those dur- 
ing the day. As both my aunts con- 



sidered the practice unhealthy it was 
never introduced into their households. 
Dinner parties were common, when the 
table would be loaded with luxuries. 
After the dessert the ladies retired to 
the parlor for an hour's gossip, while 
the gentlemen sipped wine, smoked 
long Dutch pipes and discussed the af- 
fairs of the nation The ladies having 
been rejoined in the drawing room cof- 
fee was passed. These parties were 
often the scene of much conviviality, 
but "being a little after dinnerish" 
it was considered a slight matter, and 
any escapade in consequence was 
wholly overlooked. In 1780 the Mar- 
quis de Chastellux, the Vicornte do Vau- 
dreuil, M. de Tale}-rand and M. de 
Montesquieu visited Newburyport ; 
they came from Portsmouth over the 
Merrimac Ferry and stopped at the 
"Wolfe Tavern." These foreigners 
had a letter of introduction to Mr. John 
Tracy, but before it was delivered Mr. 
Tracy and Col. Wigglesworth called to 
invite them to pass the evening with 
Mr. Tracy. I copy the account of this 
visit from a description written by the 
Marquis de Chastellux, as it is a per- 
fect picture of the tone of society at 
that time and for a long period after. 
M. de Chastellux writes, "This Colonel 
remained with me till Mr. Trac}" fin- 
ished his business, when he came with 
two handsome carriages, well equipped, 
and conducted me and my aide-de- 
Camps to his country house." (This 
was the mansion on High street above 
the former Dexter house.) "This is 
in a very beautiful situation, but of this 
I could myself form no judgment, as it 
was already night. I went, however, 
by moonlight to see the garden, which 
is composed of different terraces. There 
is likewise a hothouse and a number of 

j-oung trees. The house is handsome 
and well finished, and everything 
breathes that air of magnificence ac- 
companied with simplicity, which is 
only to be found among merchants. 
The evening passed rapidly by the aid 
of agreeable conversation and a few 
glasses of punch. The ladies we found 
assembled were Mrs. Tracy, her two 
sisters, and their cousin Miss Lee. 
Mrs. Tracy has an agreeable and sen- 
sible countenance, and her manners 
correspond with her appearance. At 
ten o'clock an excellent supper was 
served. We drank good wine, Miss 
Lee sung, and prevailed upon Messrs. 
de Vaudreuil and Talej'rand to sing 
also. Towards midnight the ladies 
withdrew, but we continued drinking 
Madeira and Xeiy. Mr. Tracy, ac- 
cording to the custom of the county, 
offered us pipes, which were accepted 
by M. de Taleyrand and M. de Mon- 
tesquieu, the consequence of which was 
that they became intoxicated and were 
led home, where they were happy to get 
to bed. As to m} T self, I remained per- 
fectly cool, and continued to converse 
on trade and politics with Mr. Tracy." 

In addition to the entertainments I 
have described were evening parties 
and balls. These parties were often 
large, and music was usually provided 
for dancing, with a choice and elegant 
treat. Sillabub at an earlier day had 
been a fashionable evening beverage. 
There were sillabub tables, small, 
square, four-legged ones, with a narrow 
ledge running round the sides, on 
which were placed the glass sillabub 
bowl andFadle, the mixture, which con- 
sisted of milk, wine or cider, sugar and 
spice, being dipped into tall, slender 
stemmed glasses. The introduction of 
tea brought sillabub into disuse. Ices 



had not then become general. Cream 
whipped to a froth, sweetened and 
flavored, was much favored. Served 
in glasses it looked very pretty, and 
''whips" were the one genteel thing for 
an evening soiree. Jellies, various 
cakes, fruit, wines and hot punch were 
the usual additional refreshments. 

The old Tabernacle upon whose 
floor the stately minuet of a preceding 
generation had been danced had given 
place to the new Washington Hall on 
Green street, which had a spring floor, 
considered especially excellent for danc- 
ing. It was reached by two flights of 
stairs leading from the lower entry to 
the one above ; two ante rooms opened 
into this, from which doors led to the 
hall, which was lofty and spacious. 
Large windows draped with red faced 
on either side ; at the upper end was a 
gallery for musicians ; opposite were 
two fireplaces where huge logs crackled 
and sparkled. Round the sides was a 
platform, slightly raised above the 
spring floor, upon which stood rows of 
yellow wooden settees. Two glittering 
chandeliers were suspended from the 
ceiling. Upon the mantels and orches- 
tra stood glass candelabra and candle- 

Here during the winter a series of 
monthly assemblies were held, at which 
the young people danced contra dances, 
four-handed and eight-handed reels, 
while their elders amused themselves 
at the card tables spread in the ante 
rooms. A black waiting maid, and 
two or three sable male waiters were in 
attendance. The refreshments were 
similar to those at the parties. 

It was expected the morning after a 
party or ball that the gentlemen should 
call upon their fair partners to inquire 
respecting their health. It was com- 

mon for them to drop in of an evening 
socially. Sam L. Knapp rendered him- 
self especially welcome, and Tom Ca- 
rey's varied information and fine voice 
fitted him for a most entertaining com- 
panion. Singing was a universal ac- 
complishment. In a few houses a spinet 
or harpsichord could be found, but as 
yet there were but four pianos in the 
town. These belonged to the daugh- 
ters of Parson Giles, Miss Mary Coffin, 
Miss Catharine Davenport and Miss 
Sophronia Peabody. A French refu- 
gee, formerly a nobleman, whose name 
I cannot recall, came from Boston once 
in two weeks to give these 3'oung la- 
dies lessons. 

The organs in St. Paul's and the 
Pleasant street church were played bv 
Mr. Daniel Bay ley and William Wood, 
the brother of the author, George 

The pianos were small, slender- 
legged, tinkling instruments, imported 
from Paris. The music was love songs, 
dancing tunes, etc., "Hail Columbia," 
"Yankee Doodle," the old revolution- 
ary song, "Why should vain mortals 
tremble at the sight of death and de- 
struction on the field of battle," "Moll 
Brooks," "What can the matter be," 
"The Campbells are coming," and the 
duet "Shepherds have you seen my 
Flora pass this way?" were favorites. 
I copy an ode entitled "Freedom's An- 
niversary," from a music book published 
in 1808 : 

"This day fires our minds, 

This day fires our minds, 

This day fires our minus 

With a flame as arose, 

When our sires drew the steel, 

Which laid prostrate our foes, 

With mirth inspiring lay, 

We'll celebrate the day, 
Till the orbs cease to roll or the earth melts 




Brave heroes who fought, 
Brave heroes who fought, 
Brave heroes who fought, 
And have labored to crown 

Columbia's rich fields in the pride of renown, 

From your station on high one moment look 

On myriads of wretches that grovel around ; 

To Afric's broad zone turn the wings of the 

Traverse regions unknown and nations un- 

Or fly to famed Asia and there you will hear, 

Oppression's loud clangor, hoarse grating the 

Or haste to proud Europe, her regions ex- 
plore ; 

Mark the myriads that starve, yet kings they 
adore ; 

Disgusted with tyrants, disgusted with 

Extend fancy's pinions and mount o'er the 

To your own native clime, for there you may 

The wisest and happiest of all human kind. 

Thus highly exalted, ne'er cease to adore 

The God of the skies, and his mercies im- 

This day fires our minds, 
This day fires our minds, 
This day fires our minds 
With a flame as arose 
When our sires drew the steel 
Which laid prostrate our foes, 
With mirth inspiring lay, 
We'll celebrate the day, 

Till the orbs cease to roll or the earth melts 

There is a Thanksgiving anthem : 

"Sing aloud to God our strength, 

Sing aloud to God our strength, 

Sing aloud to God our strength, to God our 

Make a joyful noise to him with psalms, to 
him with psalms, to him with psalms, to 
him with psalms, 

Praise the Lord all ye nations, praise him, 

praise him. praise him all ye people. 
For his mercies are great, his mercies are 

We will rejoice and give thanks, will rejoice 
and give thanks, will rejoice and give 
thanks, will rejoice and give thanks. 

Let us come before his presence, before his 
presence, before his presence, with 
thanksgiving, with thanksgiving, with 
thanksgiving, with thanksgiving, and en- 
ter his courts with praise. 

Thou, O Lord, hast crowned the year with 
goodness, with goodness, with goodness. 

The pastures are covered o'er with flocks, 

The vallies are also covered o'er with corn, 

The vallies are also covered o'er with corn. 

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujar, hallelujah, 
hallelujah, amen. 

Hallelujah, amen, amen, hallelujah, hallelu- 
jah, amen, amen." 


For some years an orphan asylum 
had been established where some half 
dozen girls were reared and instructed, 
until of an age to become bound to ser- 
vice in some family, there to remain 
until eighteen. This institution was lo- 
cated on Federal street, and at that 
time was under the supervision of Mrs. 
Joanna Akerman. The orphans were 
dressed in uniform. On Sunda}-, head- 
ed by the matron, they demurely 
walked two and two, in procession, to 
the Old South meetinghouse, where a 
pew in the gallery was appropriated to 
their use. 

That spring, to the horror of the 
more rigid, two dancing schools were 
opened, one by Mr. Ingalls, at Union 
Hall, the other by Mr. Nichols, who 
"gave lessons as taught by the cele- 
brated Italian master, Mr. Dochoun. 
Gentlemen desirous of practising the 
small sword, cut and thrust, broad 
sword, and a powerful defence with the 
cane," were desired to leave their 
names at the bookstore of Thomas & 
W hippie. A convenient bathing house 



was also established on Water street, 
above Market square. 

At this time two newspapers were 
supported in Newburyport, "The Her- 
ald," which was the Federalist organ, 
and the "Statesman," Democratic. A 
large circulating library was well pat- 
ronized, and there were several good 
private libraries in the town. These 
were anxious times, and the news from 
Europe was impatiently awaited . Buon- 
aparte was in the midst of his career, 
his progress was eagerly watched, and 
the accounts of his success were read 
with wonder and avidity. Byron and 
Scott had begun to enchant the world. 
"Elizabeth, or the Exile of Siberia," 
was the new novel which every one was 

In speaking of the business of the 
town I omitted the truckmen, compris- 
ing a tall, stalwart band of men, who 
in their long white frocks, made a good- 
ly show in Fourth of July and other 
civic processions. Sometimes of an af- 
ternoon, when the business for the day 
was over, they would drive in a line 
through the streets, their fine horses, 
and long, tilting, clattering trucks 
noisily breaking the quiet monotony. 
In the winter, on their sleds, in this 
way, they frequently volunteered to aid 
in breaking the paths. In addition to 
these drays a large business was done 
by ox teams, one or more pair of oxen 
yoked to a two-wheeled cart. Mr. 
Nathaniel Bricket, Mr. Samuel Wheel- 
er and Mr. Charles Chase were noted 

Back of the Pond stood a collection 
of low, unpainted huts. This village 
was st3'led "Guinea." Here were the 
homes of the colored population, of 
which there was quite a number. 
These were mostly descendants of ser- 


vants formerly held as slaves in our 
first households. Many considering 
themselves as still connected with the 
old master's family, in any emergency 
always looked to it for advice, care and 

In those days of huge wood fires, it 
was no uncommon thing for the burn- 
ing of a chimnej 7 to endanger a whole 
neighborhood. A law was enacted that 
every chimney should be swept once a 
year. Lilly White, a tall, lithe negro, 
was the principal sweep, followed by 
his little apprentice boy bearing a bag 
of clothes. Lilly perambulated the 
streets, brandishing his brooms and cry- 

"Lilly White has come to town, 
To sweep the chimney tip and down, 
If he does not sweep them clean 
He shall not have his pistareen." 

Clement Paul, a genteel waiter, was 
a favorite in the upper circles. Joe 
Fatal, Col. Greenleafs darky, Old 
Cambridge, who could remember being 
kidnapped when a child and brought to 
this country in a slave vessel, Jimmy 
,Paul, Sip Burnham and others were 
useful members of society, and respect- 
ed citizens. Many colored women did 
washing, and black Luce was a famous 
nurse. Old Luce Pero, a beggar tramp, 
generally accompanied by one or more 
children, was the horror of the more in- 
fantile population ; the threat "old Luce 
Pero will catch you," was sufficient to 
quell the most turbulent urchin. Co- 
burn had a remarkably aristocratic dar- 
key employed in his hotel. Much ad- 
miring a pair of boots which Ebenezer 
Mosely, esq., had purchased, the negro 
waiter strutted into the store of Os- 
good & Brackett, and with a pompous 
air ordered a similar pair, adding, much 
to the amusement of Messrs. Osgood 



& Brackett, "Let 'em be jes like 
Squire Moseley's, only a quarter dollar 

No fish market had been established, 
fresh fish was vended about the streets 
in wheelbarrows. Clams in the shell 
were sold ; none were then shucked. 
Sometimes the "Algeiines" from Sea- 
brook peddled about boiled clams taken 
from the shell, but clams were regarded 
as a plebeian dish, from which many 
persons turned in disgust. The chief 
fishmongers were Flood, and Jim Ball. 

The famous witch of the town was a 
woman known as Madame Hooper. 
Her earl}' history has remained a mys- 
tery. She came to Newbuiy about 
1760, and for a time was the dame of 
a school at the south end ; afterward 
she became a famous fortune teller, 
rivalling in celebrity Moll Pitcher of 
Lynn ; her home on Cottle's Lane being 
visited by persons of all ages and class- 
es from near and afar. In person 
Madam Hooper was short and stout, 
with a strong^ marked countenance, 
glittering gray eyes, and a full set of 
double teeth ; her appearance was that 
of one born and bred in good society, 
though from the first a peculiarity had 
been evinced in her demeanor which in- 
creased with years. She was well ed- 
ucated and accomplished, and brought 
\ with her on coming to town, a very ex- 
tensive and handsome wardrobe, rich 
brocades and the like, which were worn 
without remodelling to the end of her 
long life. These antique garments, 
with a unique bonnet of her own fash- 
ion, combined with an oracular, sibyllic 
manner 4 were calculated to inspire cred- 
ulous people with the awe and wonder 
which she coveted. Children ran at her 
approach, and their elders from fear of 
the "evil eye" were lavish in courtesy. 

Thus the witch carried matters with a 
high hand, visiting where she chose, 
generally acting her own pleasure with- 
out much regard to the wishes or con- 
venience of others, few venturing to 
cross one whom so man}' considered as 
possessing supernatural powers. This 
reputation was artfully sustained . Often 
her visitors were received in impur- 
turbable silence, but when an answer 
was vouchsafed it usually was verified. 
This foresight and sagacity succeeded 
in securing dupes for man}- years. She 
kept a pet fowl, black in plumage, with 
a clipped bill and claws, which was re- 
gnrded as her "familiar." Madame 
Hooper lived to an advanced age. but 
at length died in poverty and degrada- 
tion, unmourned butnot unremembered. 
Her name had become a household 
word, which has been handed down 
through 'the generations as one of the 
marvels of the past. Perhaps if the 
secrets of her life could be unmasked 
we should pity rather than condemn. 
Billy Watkins was a somewhat eccen- 
tric individual, who owned a large es- 
tate on Water street. Foony Gerrish, 
a wig maker, often became the jest of 
the populace. Though illiterate, he 
evinced a desire to rank amongst the 
educated. On one occasion a person 
in the bar room of the "Wolfe Tavern" 
perceiving him seemingly intent upon 
perusing a newspaper which was held 
bottom upward, inquired, "What is the 
news, Mr. Gerrish?" "Terrible gales," 
hurriedly returned the old man, "terri- 
ble gales, ship.s all bottom upwards." 
Wishing to be thought a man of busi- 
ness Foouy bought a ledger. That 
morning he sold a wig, for which, much 
to the purchaser's astonishment, he de- 
clined to take payment, "he would 
charge it." At night he detained one 



of the young clerks in the neighbor- 
hood to note it down. Having written 
the date the 3"oung man inquired the 
name of the debtor. Foony looked 
puzzled, scratched his head, he "never 
thought to inquire the name," but after 
a moment's deliberation he added, 
"Never mind, put it down, one wig to 
a man that looked like an Amesbury 
man." Whether Foony received the 
price of the wig from this dubiously 
described individual I am unable to 

Another notoriety was ' 'Bumble Bee 
Titcomb," a carpenter by trade. While 
at work at his bench a bumblebee light- 
ed near his hand. Mr. Titcomb raised 
his hatchet, ejaculating, "Now, old fel- 
low, your end has come ! Say your 
prayers, for death is nigh. One, two, 
three strike !" Down went the hatch- 
et, cutting off the end of Mr. Titcomb's 
thumb, while the bumblebee, having 
flown up and stung the end of his nose, 
buzzed exultantly away through the 
open door. Ever after the carpenter 
was known th.oughout the town as 
"Bumble Bee Titcomb." 

Another of the celebrities of the 
town was Mr. Enoch Toppan, common- 
ly called "Rhymer Toppan," as he was 
never at a loss for a rhyme. One day, 
at the market house, Mr. James Ca- 
rey and Mr. Richard Adams laid a 
wager respecting Mr. Toppan's instant- 
ly returning an answer in rhyme. Mr. 
Toppan was across the square. From 
the steps of the market house Mr. 
Carej- sang out, "Mr. Toppan, so they 
say, bu3 r s his meat and never'll pa}-." 
To which was responded, "Jimmy Ca- 
rey, if that be true, I'll always have 
my meat of j'ou." Mr. Carey was 
obliged to "stand treat." 

For years the chief wonder of the 

place was Lord Timothy Dexter, his 
hairless dog and his images. This man 
was born in Maiden in 1743. He came 
to Newburyport in early manhood and 
married a Miss Frothingham, from the 
old Frothingham mansion on the corner 
of High and Olive street. In a short 
time he obtained a large fortune by tak- 
ing advantage of the markets and by 
lucky adventures. His first successful 
speculation was buj'ing up continental 
notes when depreciated, and selling 
them when a prospect of redemption 
had raised their value. His specula- 
tions in mittens, warming-pans, whale- 
bone and the like, are widely known. 
Though ignorant and illiterate, and 
doubtless somewhat indebted to luck 
for his good fortune, still it is evident 
the man was both shrewd and saga- 
cious. His vanity was inordinate. 
Under any circumstances it is probable 
he would have proved an eccentricity, 
still, such were the convivial habits of 
the period, and constantly surrounded 
as he was, by a band of sycophantic 
boon C9mpanions, who spurred him on 
to all sorts of ridiculous sayings and 
doings, one can scarcely judge what the 
character of the man would have been 
under the teetotal regime of Neal Dow. 
Having bought the fine Jackson man- 
sion on High street, nearly opposite his 
wife's maiden home, he began to beau- 
tify it after his own design. Mr. James 
Wilson was a carver of figure heads of 
ships. Dexter conceived the idea of 
employing Mr. Wilson to embellish his 
house and grounds with wooden statues. 
These figures were remarkable speci- 
mens in wood carving. In this work 
Mr. Wilson displayed the power of a 
sculptor ; it is a pity he never aspired 
to works of greater durability. The 
figures of Washington, Adams and Jef- 



ferson, over the front door, were excel- 
lent, and the other figures, the eagle 
upon the cupola, and the animals, were 
life-like and in good proportion. Dex- 
ter built a tomb in the garden ; on its 
completion he got up a mock funeral, 
had his wife and family arrayed in 
mourning, acted his part as corpse, and 
was borne to the sepulchre with due 
funeral rites. After his resurrection 
and return to the house he beat his wife 
because she did not weep while follow- 
ing him to the grave. He kept a per- 
son in his house named Jonathan 
Plumrner, who stj'led himself "physi- 
cian, preacher, and poet laureate, to 
his excellence- Timothy Dexter, Earl of 
Chester, and Knight of the two open- 
mouthed lions." In those daj'S it was 
the practice to send notes to be read at 
public worship before the long prayer, 
requesting suitable petitions in time of 
affliction, or on occasions of joy. Be- 
low is a note sent b}- the poet laureate, 
and read in his pulpit b}- the Rev. 
Charles Milton : 

"Jonathan Plummer jr., de.sires to 
return thanks to the transcendently po- 
tent controler of the universe, for his 
marvellous kindness to him in raising 
him from a desperately low and peril- 
ous indisposition, to such a measure of 
strength and health that he is again 
able with gladness of heart and trans- 
porting rapture of mind, to wait at the 
celestial portals of wisdom. The said 
Plummer also desires to give thanks to 
Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, 
the beginning and the end, for his as- 
tonishing favor, his captivating mercy, 
and his personal regard to him in 
snatching him from endless grief and 
everlasting woe, in a miraculous man- 
ner ; by light in dreams; for causing' 
the day to dawn in his heart, and the 

da3 T spriug from on high to illuminate 
his dark and benighted understanding ; 
for chasing far from him the gloomy fog 
of infidelity, and enabling him triumph- 
antly to rejoice in the glorious light and 
liberty of the Gospel, wherein his bless- 
ed Redeemer has crowned his happy 

The Rev. Parson Milton's response 
to these requests was, "O Lord, have 
mercy on this over-pompous brother, 
whose wordy rhetoric has just startled 
our ears ; save us from cant, bombast, 
and all the wiles of the devil. Amen." 

I copy a document of Plumrner's, 
headed "The Author's Last Will and 
Testament." "Preparatory Address 
to the Readers. Ladies and Gentle- 
men : At the request of a number of 
worth}* friends, I now furnish you with 
my last will and testament. You will 
doubtless think it a very singular pro- 
duction, and you will think right ; for, 
excepting a few lines in the beginning, 
which are partly borrowed from the last 
will of a celebrated writer, and the last 
paragraph, which is taken from Fisher, 
I believe nothing like it has ever been 
published or written. 

But the will is not more singular than 
the usage which occasioned it. What 
this usage was I shall not now under- 
take to disclose, for to do justice to the 
subject would I believe require a con- 
siderable number of volumes ; and be- 
sides, my abilities are inadequate, vast- 
ly inadequate to the ponderous task. 
Was the celebrated Cicero again per- 
mitted to live in our world I fane}- he 
might talk day and night on the sub- 
ject, might entirely exhaust his une- 
qualed eloquence, might move earth 
and perhaps Heaven, to pity, to com- 
miseration, and to tears, and perhaps 
not half disclose the affecting scene, 



not half display the inexpressible an- 
guish with which the barbarous treat- 
ment of a certain man has oppi'essed 
my tender soul. 

The resentment which I now displa}" 
is not the effect of any sudden and un- 
reasonable gust of passion. I have 
long dispassionately considered the sub- 
ject, and the influence of religion, of 
justice, of duty to parents, of good 
breeding, and of every other incentive 
to moderation, foil}' only excepted, has 
been in this case eagerly sought after, 
listened to, and properly regarded 
by me. 

I, Jonathan Plummer jr., of New- 
bury, in the Commonwealth of Massa- 
chusetts, seriously considering the un- 
certaintj' of human life, do, while in a 
sound state of mind, and in tolerable 
bodily health, make this my last will 
and testament ; being determined to 
dispose of all my earthly property, not 
as custom may prompt, but as justice 
and equity seem to direct. I most hum- 
bly recommend my soul to the exten- 
sive mercy of that supreme, eternal, in- 
telligent Being, who gave it me ; at the 
same, time most earnestly deprecating 
his justice. If I die in Newbury or in 
any place within twenty miles of it, I 
desire to be buried in the burying 
ground which is near the meeting house, 
of the first parish in this town, and that 
I may be carried to the grave from my 
own apartment. Should my father, or 
any, or either of my brothers have the 
hypocrisy to follow me in mourning, or 
to walk between my coffin and the other 
people who happen to attend my fu- 
neral, I desire m}- executor to endeavor 
to prevent their so doing. Should my 
mammy and my oldest sister outlive 
me, 1 desire them to walk next to my 
coffin dressed in , decent customar 

mourning, and as many of the ladies 
whose names I shall mention in this 
will, as happen to attend my funeral, to 
follow them, but not in mourning. As 
the usage I have received from my 
father and brothers has given me tor- 
tures which no tongue can express, I 
do not mean that they shall be much 
the better for my property which I may 
happen to leave in this world. But, 
nevertheless, as my father happened 
somehow or other, when he first made 
a will, so far to forget his enmity as to 
bequeath me about a thirtieth part of 
what he was then worth, as a grateful 
return for this almost miraculous favor, 
I give and bequeath to him the sum of 
seventeen shillings ; which is not far 
from a thirtieth part of what I was pos- 
sessed of when I for the first tune com- 
mitted a will to writing. As something 
influenced my father to order the sum 
which he bequeathed me to be handed 
to me in ten annual payments, his con- 
duct influences me to treat him in the 
same manner. I desire my executor to 
pay him the above seventeen shillings 
in ten different yearly payments. One 
shilling, eight pence, one farthing and 
a half yearly, the first nine years after 
my death, and the tenth year one shil- 
ling, eight pence, two farthings and a 
half. But should my father die before 
he has received all which I bequeath 
him in this manner, it is my will that 
my executor keep what remains in his 
hands of the seventeen shillings at the 
time of my father's death, for his own 
proper use and benefit. This is all the 
money whiqh I can conscientiously give 
my father, but at the same time I wish 
him riches more durable, more inestim- 
ably valuable than gold. I wish him 
that precious light of Christ which once 
partly illumined his now (in my opin- 



ion) benighted understanding. I wish 
him, and was it in my power, I would 
bequeath him such a portion of the 
blood of the meek and lowly Redeem- 
er, as would wash him from all sin, en- 
able him to face me at the bar of the 
righteous judge at the great day, and 
rescue him from those torments which 
the abuse which I have received from 
him so amply and so eternally deserves. 
My mamma having used me as a son, I 
should be glad to leave all the rest of 
my property to her, if it was not nearly 
the same thing as leaving it to nry fath- 
er and brothers ; but her interest is so 
nearly connected with theirs, and the 
good which I have received from her 
has been so many hundred times coun- 
terbalanced by the evil treatment which 
I have received from them, that I can- 
not conscientiously reward her kind- 
ness any farther than by giving her a 
share in common with the rest of the 
ladies mentioned in this will. 

It is my will that my executor, soon 
after my decease, convert all my real 
and personal estate into read}* money. 
That he shall collect what happens to 
be due me, and sell all my property, 
of whatever kind it happens to be, by 
public auction or private sale, one or 
both, as he shall think proper ; and that 
after deducting the aforesaid legacy of 
seventeen shillings, paying all my just 
debts, and taking pay for his own time, 
trouble and expense, and what time, 
trouble and expense he shall then ex- 
pect to be incumbered with as executor 
to this my last will and testament. After 
doing this I say, it is my will that he 
soon after equally divide all the remain- 
ing part of my money among the fol- 
lowing amiable ladies, as many of them 
I mean as happen at that time to be 
alive, viz : My mamma, Miss Anna 

Bayley, the two oldest daughters that 
are not now married, of Capt. Jonathan 
Poor, Misses Judea Plummer and Han- 
nah Plummer, daughters of Mr. Jere- 
miah Plummer ; Misses Else Adams, 
Rhoda Plummer, Rebekah Xoyes. Mar- 
garet Robinson, Mary Hook, Charlotte 
Ilsle^', Jemima Knight, Hannah Adams, 
daughter of the late Mr. Richard Ad- 
ams deceased, Ruth Short, daughter of 
Mr. James Short jr., Eunice Pearson, 
Mary Xoyes, and the very amiable Sa- 
rah Little, daughter of Mr. Richard 
Little , the transcendently amiable 
Misses Else Tucker, Mary Tucker, 
Elizabeth Tucker, Charlotte Tucker, 
Clarissa Tucker, Catharine Tucker and 
Hannah Tracy ; the handsome Mrs. 
Mary Xoyes, widow of the late Capt. 
John Xo}"es deceased, and the bloom- 
ing widow Huldah Xoyes the consort 
of Mr. William Stickue}* ; the consort 
of Mr. John Holland, and the consort 
of Mr. George Adams of Xewbur}- in 
the Commonwealth aforesaid ; Mrs. Ju- 
dea Kent and Mrs. Elizabeth Pike, 
spotless widows ; the transcendently 
lovely Mrs. Lydia St. Barb, Abigail 
Cutler, Hannah Boardman, Sarah "\Vig- 
glesworth and Katherine Wigglesworth ; 
the eminently amiable Misses Mary 
Barber, Elizabeth Greenleaf, daughter 
of Mr. Abner Greenleaf; Lucy Lunt, 
Sarah Smith, Catharine Murray, Eliza- 
beth Ingalls, Maria Ingalls, Mary 
Moulton, Maiy Sweat, Eunice Sawyer, 
Abigail Boardman. Sarah Couch, Anna 
Couch, Anna Dodge, Isabella Thomp- 
son, Lydia Thompson, Hannah Xoyes, 
Jane Xoj'es, Sarah Alexander. Mary 
Alexander, Mary Moody. Sarah Mood}*, 
daughters of Mr. Benjamin Moody of 
Xewburyport, in the Commonwealth 
aforesaid ; Mrs. Eleanor Weeks of 
Candia in Chester, and Miss Elizabeth 



Plumer of Exeter, in the state of New 

I meant to write the aforesaid list of 
names for certain reasons, without any 
epithets denoting the qualities of the 
ladies, but it is very difficult for me to 
speak about such heavenly lassies with- 
out these epithets, and I doubt whether 
even the pope or his nuncio, if he knew 
them as well as I do, could go through 
the task which I meant to perform. 
Had I allowed free scope to my inclina- 
tion I should have added a shining ep- 
ithet to each of the respected names, 
nor should I then have done more than 
each of the lovely ladies deserve from 
my pen. I am sensible that the total 
sum of my. fortune is but trifling, but I 
hope to make a considerable addition 
to it, and should I die without being 
married, I mean that the aforesaid 
ladies shall have all that I leave 
after seventeen shillings are deducted 
from it, be it more or less. The}' saw 
me afflicted and tormented by a man 
from whom I might naturally expect 
better usage ; and while I believe this 
man was laboring to destroy my char- 
acter and retard my fortune, with en- 
mity more abusive than death, more 
cruel than the grave ; when I was 
warmly contending with poverty, rags 
and wretchedness, I received from these 
ladies such friendly treatment as ren- 
dered my low estate not only tolerable 
but in some measure happy, while some 
less virtuous ladies seemed to rejoice 
at my misfortune, and denied me the 
common civilities of life, even the favor 
of walking the ground with them. 
The above named ladies not only 
I'tiiled to imitate them in these respects, 
but gave me reason to think that they 
wished to see me in better circumstan- 
ces. The value of the civilities which 

I have received from them is greatly 
enhanced when I consider the immense 
wisdom and angelic beauty of a great 
part, and the captivating amiableness 
of the whole number. Considering 
these things, I know no bounds that I 
ought to set to my gratitude, love and 
esteem. Had I ten millions of dollars 
to dispose of more than I have, I would 
freely will it all to them. I wish them 
the most consummate earthly felicity, 
and was it in my power to insure them 
seats in paradise, I should not eat nor 
drink with half the pleasure that I 
should take in conveying to them the 
most delightful mansions in those 
realms of bliss. I think it apparent 
from Scripture that departed souls re- 
tain a remembrance of the friendly deeds 
of their benefactors in this world, and 
I confess that I am not without hopes 
of being serviceable to those lovely 
nymphs in the regions which we shall 
inhabit beyond the grave ; even after 
ten million times ten million years have 
rolled away, I hope to give them fresh 
marks of my present unfeigned and 
boundless regard. 

I make, constitute, ordain and ap- 
point Mr. Edmund Knight of this- town, 
sole executor to this m}- last will and 
testament, hereby renouncing, disallow- 
ing and disannulling all former wills, 
testaments, executors, legacies or be- 
quests by 'me in whatever manner 
named, willed bequeathed, hereby rati- 
fymg and confirming this and this only 
to be my last will and testament. In 
testimony whereof I have hereunto set 
my hand and seal." 

Dexter owned a farm in Chester, and 
consequently styled himself Earl of 
Chester. He erected handsome build- 
ing on this estate, and these were deco- 
rated with several images, which were 



a wonder in that region for a long time. 
The poet laureate's description of his 
lordship and the Dexter mansion ran in 
this wise : 

"Lord Dexter was a man of fame, 
And celebrated was his name. 
His house was white, 
And trimmed with green, 
And on the top an eagle seen. 

Lord Dexter, like King Solomon, 
Hath gold and silver by the ton ; 
And bells to Qhurches he has given 
To worship the great King of Heaven, 

Two lions stand to guard the door, 
With mouths wide open to devour 
All enemies who dare oppose 
Lord Dexter or his shady groves. 

The images around him stand, 
For they were made at his command ; 
Looking to see Lord Dexter come, 
With fixed eyes they see him home." 

Dexter gave the Harris street church 
$333.33 to purchase a bell, and a simi- 
lar sum was presented to St. Paul's so- 
ciety. He evinced a praiseworthy lib- 
erality in aiding any f enterprise that 
would benefit the town, taking over a 
hundred shares in the, Essex Merrimac 
bridge. On the Fourth of Jul} 7 follow- 
ing its completion he delivered an ora- 
tion th'ere, which, sa}*s the Essex Jour- 
nal, "For elegance of style, propriety 
of speech, and force pf argument was 
truly Ciceronian ! !" 

Lord Timoth} r also greatly improved 
the roads around his mansion. His of- 
fer to pave High street, and to build a 
brick market house, if the} 7 might bear 
his name the town rejected ; but the 
two thousand dollars he bequeathed in 
his will, "the interest of which he di- 
rected the overseers of the poor annu- 
ally to distribute to such of the poor of 
the town as are the most necessitous, 
who are not in the workhouse," was ac- 
cepted and acknowledged with gratitude 

and thankfulness." Determined to rank 
amongst those whose names never die, 
Dexter wrote a book entitled "A Pickle 
for the Knowing Ones." A sufficiently 
original production to obtain its author's 
aim. Punctuation was omitted till the 
last page, which was closely covered 
with the various marks, the readers be- 
ing directed "to pepper and salt it as 
they pleased." 

Dexter died in 1806 and his house 
was rented for a tavern. The widow 
of his only son, Samuel, and his only 
daughter, Mrs. Bishop, boarding with 
the landlord's family. As the images 
decayed they were removed, but the 
three presidents remained over the front 
door for many years. As the tomb in 
the garden was near the house, it did 
not become Lord Timothy's mausole- 
um, he was interred with his wife and 
son on Bur}*ing Hill, the garden tomb 
continuing an object of interest to vis- 
itors at the hotel until a comparatively 
recent date. 

The streets of Newburj-port, though 
greatly improved, were often unprovid- 
ed with gravelled sidewalks. There 
were but few pavements, and those 
principal!} 7 before some of the larger 
mansions. The bricks were usually 
laid side up, some presenting a zig-zag 
or herring bone pattern. 

Prior to 1800 the town commenced 
to plant shade trees. Lombard}' pop- 
lars were a favorite avenue tree. The 
Boston turnpike had a row on either 
side as far out as "Old Maid's Hall," 
and it was common to see three of 
these stiff trees before a house, tower- 
ing sentinel like on the edge of the side- 

On Merrimac street nearly opposite 
Broad, is an ancient house which was 
formerly a noted inn, known as "Spauld- 



ing's Tavern." The Stone house, on a 
farm near the Upper Green, Oldtown, 
is another very ancient mansion. This 
farm was first owned by Mr. John 
Spencer, who sold it to Capt. Daniel 
Pierce. Capt. Pierce erected a dwell- 
ing of stone, after the style of an old 
English manor house. This was the 
girlhood home of Martha Pierce, the 
mother of my great grandfather John- 
son. Afterwards the place was owned 
by Mr. Nathaniel Tracy, whose family 
resided there some years ; it next be- 
came the property of Capt. Offin Board- 
man, who built the wooden wing at the 
upper end of the house, and the L in 
the rear. Capt. Boardman sold the es- 
tate to Mr. John Pettingel, and at the 
time of which I am writing, it was 
known by the name of the Pettingel 
Farm. At one time this house, on ac- 
count of its safety, was the depot for 
the town's powder. One of Mr. 
Pierce's negro slaves, having placed a 
lighted candle in a keg of powder, blew 
out one side of the house, and much 
to her consternation lodged herself 
amongst the limbs of a large apple tree. 
There are many legends connected with 
this antique dwelling, which, if its walls 
could speak, would man} 7 a tale unfold. 
There is a tradition that in the early 
days, the males being absent, an Indian 
who came with evil intent, was forced 
by the females of the family into a chest 
in the cellar, where his earthly career 
soon closed, and that thereafter his 
shade haunted the spot. 

Another ancient family residence is 
situated in the "Farms District," New- 
bur}\ The place originally belonged to 
John Hull, who died in 1670. At his 
decease it was purchased b}' John, old- 
est son of Mr. Nicholas Noyes, who 
built the house soon after. The home- 


stead has descended from father to son 
to the sixth generation. John's son 
and grandson were both named Daniel. 
Maj. Samuel Noyes and his son Samuel 
to Luther, his fourth son. The seventh 
generation are in his family, and two of 
the eighth have been born there. The 
house, a substantial edifice, was built 
in a stj r le unusual for a farmhouse in 
those early days. The front hall is 
wainscotted, and a handsome staircase, 
with the elaborately carved balusters 
then fashionable for the first-class man- 
sions, leads to the second story. The 
kitchen fireplace has been reconstructed, 
but when built it was huge even for the 
period ; an ox could easily have been 
roasted whole in its capacious recess. 
This house has been the birthplace of 
several clergymen, physicians, and oth- 
er distinguished persons. Dr. Daniel 
Poore's mother was one of the daugh- 
ters of the family ; her son was named 
for his grandfather, Daniel Noyes. On 
this Noyes farm is located one of the 
most promising of the newly discovered 
Newbury mines. 


In the autumn of 1810 Mrs. Moses 
Colman was taken ill of a slow fever. 
As she would have no one but Sallie to 
nurse her, I remained in B3 r field several 
weeks. During this time the house- 
hold were troubled by a series of mys- 
terious and untoward events. Mr. 
Colman missed a ten dollar bill from 
his desk drawer in a remarkable man- 
ner, the hens quitted laying, a cask of 
choice cider that had never been 
tapped was found empty, and Jerry's 



fine parade horse which was at pasture 
on the farm, presented a low and jaded 
condition. Jeremiah Colman and Da- 
vid Emer}- had been for some time offi- 
cers in the troop. At that time Jerry 
was captaju and David first lieutenant 
of one of the companies forming the 
regiment of cavalry. "What could 
have happened to Jerry's horse !" His 
father said "he looked sorn*." At this 
juncture, Charles Field, the colored 
boy brought up in the family, now a 
youth of twenty, evinced great religious 
concern. His state was such that Dr. 
Parish was requested to visit him. The 
keen witted clergyman, after convers- 
ing with Charles, avowed lack of faith 
in his professions. "He had seen his 
mother in such states. It was his opin- 
ion that this show of piety was to cover 
some rascality. He had said as much 
to the fellow, and bade him ease his 
soul b}- confession, and b}' making every 
restitution possible." The next day to 
my surprise, I discovered the missing 
"bank note in Mrs. Column's cap box. 
It was immediately ascertained that 
Charles had for weeks been riding the 
parade horse to Newbmyport, a series 
of dances having been held in Guinea 
which he had attended. Having hid- 
den his Sunday suit in the ha}' mow, 
after the family had retired he stole out, 
dressing himself in the barn, saddled 
and bridled the horse, which had been 
stealthily brought up from pasture in 
the evening, using the military equip- 
ments, then dashed down to Guinea in 
grand style, exciting the en\y of his 
brother beaux, and the great admira- 
tion of the sable belles. The ten dollar 
bill was taken to exhibit his grandeur 
and that of the family. On moving the 
cider cask, preparatory to its being re- 
filled the straws with which its contents 

had been sucked from the bung were 
found with a heap of egg shells, which 
explained the former scarcity of eggs. 
Charles was brought to confess his mis- 
deeds, with many professions of sorrow 
and promises of amendment. Such was 
the affection felt for 0116 reared in the 
famity from infancy, that he found a 
ready forgiveness. 

A short time after my return from 
Byiield I was summoned to town. Col. 
Bartlett had at length succumbed to the 
disease that had threatened for mam- 
years ; he was in a confirmed con- 
sumption, confined to his chamber, and 
most of the time to his bed. 

Four years before, my aunt, who was 
childless, had adopted a little girl, and 
as she was wholly devoted to her hus- 
band, the care of this child and the su- 
perintendence of the house devolved 
upon me. These were sad but busy 
days. Mr. Benjamin Hale was acting 
stage agent for Col. Bartlett ; he came 
every morning for orders, and through 
the day there were more or less callers 
concerned for one who was a general 
favorite. During the past year alarms 
of fire had been frequent : it was evident 
some person of evil intent was plotting 
mischief. The citizens had become 
watchful and solicitous. The stable, 
where the next spring the fire com- 
menced, had been set on fire two or 
three times, but the flames had been ex- 
tinguished without an alarm. David 
Emery prevented one conflagration with 
a bushel measure of water; he had led 
his horse to Mr. George's shop, and 
was waiting for the men to come from 
dinner to shoe him. The street was 
quiet. David tied his horse and sat 
down to wait ; at that instant he descried 
smoke issuing from the window of the 
stable opposite. Springing up, he caught 



a bushel measure that stood by the 
pump, and filling it ran to the loft 
The chamber was empty with the excep- 
tion of one corner, where a heap of the 
hay chaff had been scraped together 
which was burning briskly. Mr. Em- 
ery dashed on the water in the measure, 
which sufficed to quench the flames. 

In February the incendiary was more 
successful. One evening in that month, 
Mr. Gilman White's crockery store on 
State street was burned. About nine 
o'clock the bells gave the alarm. I ran 
to the front door to ascertain the loca- 
tion of the fire. As the latch was lift- 
ed I was confronted by David Emery ; 
he bore one child in his arms and held 
another by the hand. "Here, Sally," 
he hurriedly exclaimed, giving me the 
infant, "these are Ann and Charles 
Stetson. Gilman White's store is 
ablaze, and Mrs. Stetson has gone to 
Topsfield. Prince has sent the chil- 
dren to you." I took them into the 
sitting-room, while Mr. Emery hurried 
away. Little Charles did not wake ; 
the girl brought Eliza Bartlett's cradle, 
at which that young miss, wakened by 
the hubbub, made a great ado ; but I 
managed to la} T the infant down still 
sleeping. Having silenced Eliza, I 
placed Ann Stetson, a quiet, pleasant 
child, in my bed. The .fire was con- 
fined to Mr. White's store. Soon after 
midnight Mr. Stetson came and took 
Charles home, but Ann remained till 
her mother's return . 

The third of May, the first circus that 
ever visited Newburyport came into 
town ; an Italian troop, Messrs. Caye- 
tario & Co. A board pavilion was 
erected in an unoccupied lot between 
Pleasant and Harris streets ; this was 
furnished with seats in the pit, which 
surrounded the ring ; above was a gal- 

lery, with boxes comprising the dress 
circle. There was a stand for musi- 
cians. The exhibitions were on Mon- 
da}-, Wednesday and Friday afternoons ; 
the doors opened at half-past three ; the 
performance commenced at half-past 
four. Tickets to the boxes were one 
dollar ; to the pit fifty cents ; children 
under ten years of age half price. This 
was a most respectable and fine looking 
companj', their horses were splendid 
animals, all the appurtenances in the 
best style. The performance com- 
menced by the "Grand Military Man- 
O3uvres by Eight Riders." As the com- 
pany furnished but six, upon their ar- 
rival at the Wolfe Tavern they applied 
to Mr. Stetson to fill the cortege. He 
referred Cayetano to Samuel Shaw and 
David Emery, as two of the best mili- 
tary riders in the place. These gentle- 
men hesitated respecting joining such a 
show, but by the solicitation of friends 
their scruples were overruled. The 
matter was kept secret ; .only a select 
few knew 'of their intention, and the 
uniform would prove a perfect disguise. . 
Col. Bartlett was so feeble, I hesitated 
with regard to accepting Mr. Emery's 
invitation to the circus, but my uncle 
insisted upon nry going, "he was curi- 
ous to hear about it, wished he could 
see Sam and David ride, he knew they 
ould sit their horses with the best of 
them." My plans came near being re- 
versed, through the conversation of a 
jand of callers on the morning prior to 
the Wednesday afternoon performance, 
which I had engaged to attend. Little 
suspecting that I had any special inter- 
st in the play, these pious women in- 
voked the wrath of Heaven, and its 
most awful judgments upon the com- 
Dany and all who should patronize 
,hem. "A mean, low set of foreigners, 



their presence was a disgrace to the 
town ; they wondered the selectmen 
should grant them a permit. No one 
of the least respectability would think 
of showing themselves in such a place 
as this circus." Abashed, I reported 
to Uncle Bartlett. He declared the 
talk all nonsense, and bade me go. 
Finding that my Uncle Peabody and 
Sophronia were going and that most 
of the elite had purchased tickets, I ven- 
tured to dress for the occasion. Mr. 
Emery escorted me to a private en- 
trance on Harris street, where we joined 
Mr. and Mrs. Shaw. The gentlemen 
having conducted us to a box, went to 
don their uniform. We were soon 
joined b}- General Peabody and his 
daughter, and Dr. Prescott and his 
daughters. Col. Greenleaf occupied 
the next box. I soon espied Mr Mo- 
ses Colman and his son Jerr}- in the pit, 
and as seat after seat and box after 
box filled with the wisdom, wit, beauty 
and fashion of the town and vicinity, I 
leaned back in my seat, satisfied with 
my compan} T , and glad that to please 
my uncle and David I had not been 
over scrupulous. 

This was prior to the formation of 
brass bands. The music, consisted of 
some half dozen performers on the bu- 
gle, clarionet, bass-viol and violin. 
Various airs had been played while the 
audience were gathering. As the mo- 
ment arrived for the performance to 
commence, at a bugle call, in dashed 
the eight horsemen, in a showy uni- 
form in single file ; they rushed around 
the ring, then followed a series of splen- 
did feats of horsemanship and military 
tactics. I do not think 1 should have 
known either Mr. Shaw or Mr. Emery 
had they not given a little private sig- 
nal. They did themselves great credit, 

rode better even than the trained eques- 
trians. Cayetano was highly delighted, 
and was most profuse in his encomiums 
and compliments. The military exer- 
cise over, Master Tatnal performed 
several gymnastic feats. He was fol- 
lowed by Master Dufiee, a negro lad, 
who drew down the house by feats of 
agilitj', leaping over a whip and hoop. 
Mr. Codet signalized himself in feats of 
horsemanship. Mr. Menial, the clown, 
amused the audience by buffoonery and 
horsemanship. Mr. Cayetano execut- 
ed on two horses the laughable farce of 
the "Fish woman, or the Metamorpho- 
sis." With a foot on each horse he rode 
forward, habited as an immensely fat 
fish woman, in a huge bonnet and un- 
couth garments. Riding rapidly round 
the ring he divested himself of this and 
several other suits, ending in making 
his final bow as an elegant cavalier. 
The young African next performed feats 
of horsemanship and vaulting, danced a 
hornpipe, and other figures, ending by 
dashing' round the ring, standing on 
the tips of his toes. The horse, Oce- 
let, posted himself in various attitudes, 
danced and took a collation with the 
clown. Mr. Cayetano performed the 
Caudian Peasant, and feats of horse- 
manship with hoops, hat and glove, ter- 
minating by the leap of the four rib- 
bons separated and together. Mr. 
Cayetano performed the pyramid, young 
Duffee on his shoulders as "Flying 
Mercury." Then came the Trampoleon 
exercise by Messrs. Menial, Codet, and 
the young African ; somersets over 
men's heads and a leap over six horses. 
The next scene was the Pedestal ; the 
horse of knowledge posted in different 
attitudes. The performances conclud- 
ed with the Taylor riding to Water- 
ford upon the unequalled horse Zebra, 



by Mr. Menial, the clown. This was a 
most laughable farce, Zebra being a 
Jack trained to the part. This elicited 
a storni of applause, and the play ended 
with cheer after cheer. The circus 
gave universal satisfaction, and from 
Newbuiyport they went to Exeter, in- 
tending to make an Eastern tour. 


"There is a destiny that shapes our ends, 

Rough hew them as we will." 

The memorable Friday evening, the 
thirty-first of May, 1811, the sun set in 
unclouded splendor, gilding the church 
spires, and gleaming upon tree tops, 
window panes, and the masts of the 
little fleet anchored at the wharves up 
and down the river. For the last time 
its rays illumined the ancient town ; 
when it sank behind the western heights 
it bade a final adieu to many an antique 
landmark and to many a goodly heri- 
tage. The last lingering gleam died 
away from the old "port," which 
henceforth would only be known in tra- 
dition and song. For the last time 
busy feet trod those long lines of lofty 
warehouses ; carts and drays rattled up 
and down the wharves ; the evening 
stage coaches dashed up to the Old 
Wolfe tavern ; merchant and artisan 
turned the key, and wended their way 
homeward ; the tea urn steamed on the 
luxurious board in stately mansions, 
and the more frugal supper was served 
in the dwellings of the mechanic and la- 
borer. Little did they reck that ere 
another day should dawn, each would 
be reduced to a perfect equality, alike 
homeless and penniless. That the old 
town of the primeval settlers and of 

Revolutionar} r fame would have passed 
into oblivion, that one period had end- 
ed, that henceforth a new town was to 
arise, a new order of things to be insti- 
tuted, new customs and business to be 
established, new men and measures to 
be represented ; but the old town of 
Newburyport, with its commerce, its 
prestige and aristocratic splendor had 
gone forevermore. 

As home duties claimed my presence 
I returned to "Crane Neck" the last 
week in May. The night of the thirty- 
first, the family, with the exception of 
my mother and myself, retired at nine 
o'clock. We were sitting by the smould- 
ering fire, sadly talking over my winter's 
experience, when a knock came upon 
the back door. Surprised, I rose, and 
drawing aside the fastening, opened it 
upon William Thurrell, who hastily ex- 
claimed, "Sallie, Newburyport is on 
fire." Repeating his words to mother, 
I ran to the eastern end of the house, 
and throwing open the door, I stood 
transfixed. It was then only half-past 
nine, audit was so light that at that dis- 
tance I could have read fine print. 

The family and neighborhood were 
aroused ; the young men saddled their 
horses or harnessed teams, and hurried 
to town. The others watched and 
moaned in a helpless anguish nearl}* bor- 
dering on despair. The house soon be- 
came thronged. People came from 
miles back, to the hill. We had a good 
glass, and from the range of the Pleas- 
ant street church steeple, which we mo- 
mentarily expected to see enveloped in 
flames, 'saw that the fire was still below 
the residences of Gen. Peabody and 
Col. Bartlett, but we knew that much 
of their property must be burned, with 
that of other relatives and friends. Re- 
calling David Emery's activity, courage, 



and self-forgetfulness , I knew that he 
would rush into the thickest of the 
fight waged against the devouring ele- 
ment, and I could not but feel anxious 
for his safety. It was a fearful, a ter- 
rible night. If I could have been on 
the spot, could haA'e but a helping hand ! 
but to be thus compelled to gaze in 
inactivity' was horrible. All night long 
the flames swelled and surged, with a 
roar like that of the distant sea. 
Towards morning came the sound of 
explosions, when great pillars of smoke, 
flame and sparks, would spring up 
towards the sk} T . By sunrise the fire 
had become subdued ; but a dense 
smoke veiled all the intervening space, 
and the sun came up the heavens red 
and lowery, its rays obscured \>y the 
dense atmosphere. 

Some of the neighbors came home in 
the morning, but my uncle, Ben Little, 
and my brother James remained through 
the day. It was evening ere we learned 
the full extent of the great fire. This 
conflagration commenced soon after the 
ringing of the nine o'clock bell, in the 
unoccupied stable in Mechanics' Row, 
Inn street, in which the former incen- 
diary attempts had been made. 

It was a pleasant moonlight evening, 
and probably over a hundred persons 
were walking the streets in the vicinity. 
Suddenly a tall spire of flame shot up 
into the sk}-, and in an instant the 
whole neighborhood was aglow. No 
rain had fallen for several weeks ; a 
brisk westerly wind was blowing, which 
threw the flames directly upon some of 
the principal stores. The alarms of fire 
had of late been so frequent that the 
fire department were unusually efficient. 
There were three or four as good hand 
engines as could be purchased, worked 
by willing and sturdy hands, and sev- 

eral fire companies in perfect organiza- 
tion, each member of which was sup- 
plied with two leathern buckets, and a 
knapsack containing two canvas bags, 
of the capacity of four bushels each, for 
the removal of clothing and bedding. 
The buckets were painted green, with 
the owner's name inscribed within a gilt 
scroll on the side ; the name was also 
stamped upon the knapsack and bags. 
The rules of these societies required the 
apparatus to be hung in the front entry 
of the owner's residence, and once a 
month members were detailed to exam- 
ine into their efficiency. 

In addition wardens were appointed, 
who, armed with long poles, ordered 
and directed at afire. There were also 
ladders placed at frequent intervals 
about the town, hung upon a fence or 
building, protected from the weather by 
a board nailed slant-wise above it. The 
bells rang the alarm, but before a stream 
of water could be brought the stable was 
enveloped in flames, which in an incred- 
ibly short time consumed the two un- 
improved stables, the tavern and gro- 
cery of Joseph Jacknian, Mr. Nathan 
Follansbee's grocery store, and a dwell- 
ing house belonging to Mr. Matthew 
Perkins on Inn street. Notwithstand- 
ing the fire department in full ranks 
worked with the energy of twice their 
force, aided by every exertion of the 
citizens, the flames could not be sub- 
dued, but soon swept down to the mar- 
ket, thence to State street. Every one 
rushed to the rescue ; long lines were 
formed to pass water ; the high bred 
lady stood side by side with her ser- 
vants, and humbler neighbors ; all dis- 
tinction of cast, age or sex, was lost in 
this vortex of misery and terror. As- 
sistance came from Newbury, Ames- 
bury, Salisbury, Rowley, Ipswich, Dan- 



vers, Beverly, Haverhill, Topsfield, 
Bradford, and towns across the river in 
New Hampshire . Engines were brought 
from Salem and some other towns, but 
the flames spread in such various direc- 
tions as to baffle all exertions'to subdue 
it. In a few hours it prostrated every 
building on the north side of State 
street, from Pleasant street to Market 
square, and on the opposite side from 
Essex street. It proceeded into Essex 
street on the northeast side to the house 
of Capt. James Kettell, where it was 
checked ; into Middle street as far as 
Fair street, on the northeast side, and 
a few rods there on the southwest side 
into Liberty, within one house of Inde- 
pendent, and down Water street as far 
as Hudson's wharf, sweeping off every 
building within the circle. The whole 
of Centre street was laid in ashes, and 
the whole row of buildings in Mer- 
chants' Row on Ferry wharf; all the 
stores on the wharves between the mar- 
ket and Marquand's wharf, including 
the latter. This cleared about sixteen 
and a half acres, in the most compact 
and wealthiest part of the town. Nearly 
two hundred and fifty buildings were 
burnt, most of which were stores and 
dwelling houses. Upwards of ninety 
families were rendered homeless ; near- 
ly every dry goods store was burned, 
four printing offices the whole num- 
ber, including the Herald office, the cus- 
tom house, the surveyor's office, the 
post office, two insurance offices the 
Union and Phenix, the Baptist meeting- 
house, four attorneys' offices, four book 
stores, the loss in one of which was 
$30,000, and also the town library. 

Blunt' s Building and Phenix Building 
for a time presented a barrier to the 
destructive element, and hopes were 
entertained that they would be saved, 

but by a sudden change in the wind the 
flames were carried directly upon these 
immense piles. State street at this 
time presented a spectacle most terribly 
sublime, the flames meeting in an arch 
across it. -The wind increased in 
strength, and it was seen that the new 
brick Baptist meeting-house on Liberty 
street was doomed. This was full of 
goods and furniture, deposited there as 
a place of undoubted safet} T at the com- 
mencement of the fire. 

At two o'clock the fire raged in every 
direction. The authorities commenced 
to blow up and tear down the buildings 
in its path. About four o'clock the 
danger diminished, and at six the fire 
had in a great degree spent its fury. 

The scene during the night was most 
terrible. The moon gradually became 
obscured and at length disappeared in 
the thick cloud of smoke which shroud- 
ed the atmosphere. The glare of light 
was intense, and the heat that of a sul- 
try summer noon. The streets were 
thronged with those whose dwellings 
were consumed, conveying the remains 
of their property to places of safety. 
Every kind of a vehicle was pressed into 
this service, from a hand barrow to a 
stage coach. 

"The incessant crash of falling build- 
ings, the roaring of chimneys like dis- 
tant thunder, the flames ascending in 
curling volumes from a vast extent of 
ruins, the air filled with a shower of 
fire, and the feathered throng fluttering 
over their wonted retreats, and drop- 
ping into the flames, the lowing of the 
cows, and the confused noise of exer- 
tion and distress, united to impress the 
mind with the most awful sensations." 

I copy the description of Elder John 
Peak, the pastor of the Baptist society, 
whose church and dwelling with part of 



his furniture and clothing were bruned. 
He writes, "I saw the roof of our meet- 
ing-house tumbling in, leaving the brick 
walls principally standing. But what 
an awful sight ! Bright flames ascend- 
ing to a great height ; explosions of 
powder, spirits, etc. ; vast columns of 
cinders and flames ascending in quick 
succession to the clouds ; a dense smoke 
ascending from the burning of tar, 
rosin, pitch, etc., formed thick clouds 
which spread over all in awful majesty. 
The roaring of the flames, accompanied 
with wind, the sound of the trumpets 
and voices of the firemen, the crash of 
buildings, the cry of the sufferers for 
help to secure their goods, and the in- 
creasing progress of the conflagration , 
altogether, was the most appalling scene 
I ever witnessed." 

Much household furniture and cloth- 
ing was burned that might have been 
saved at the commencement of the fire, 
had this not have been at such a dis- 
tance that many whose houses were de- 
stroyed never suspected danger till too 
late ; so swift was the destruction, and 
so meagre the means of transportation, 
that loss was unavoidable. 

On Market square, Mr. Edward 
Rand's store was burned, but his house 
was saved. Perkins & Dean had two 
stores, one a fire-proof building, which 
was principally preserved ; the remain- 
der of the upper side of the square was 
swept clean. Mr. Abner Wood and 
Maj. Joshua Greenleaf lost two large 
ship chandlery stores, and three brick 
stores on "Water street. Maj. Green- 
leaf's dwelling house, barn, smithy, etc. , 
on Libert}' street, were also consumed. 
On Ferry wharf was a block of lofty 
buildings called Merchants' Row ; these 
were occupied by John Wood and oth- 
ers, warehouses ; Samuel Brown, ship 

chandlery ; A. & E. Wheelright, three 
stores, groceries, iron, etc ; J acob Stone, 
groceries ; Zebedee Cook, groceries ; 
Robert Dodge, flour : Joseph Stanwood, 
jr., sail loft ; Thomas Pritchard, rigging 

On Boardman's wharf, Offin Board- 
man lost six stores and warehouses ; 
these were occupied by Amos Toppan, 
Benjamin G. Boardman and John Ord- 
ione. At this wharf a schooner was 
burned to the water's edge. 

On Atwood's wharf, Margaret At- 
wood owned three warehouses ; these 
were occupied by John Wood and B. 
G. . Sweetser. 

On Carter's wharf,W. Boardman lost 
one warehouse, Enoch C. Toppan a 
shop, block maker, Nathaniel Carter a 
house and barn. 

On Marquand's wharf, Joseph Mar- 
quand had six warehouses, a rigging 
loft, counting-room, etc. On Water 
street, at the head of the wharf, two 
dwelling houses and three stores ; all of 
these were burned, including his ele- 
gant residence, one of the splendid 
mansions of the town. At this wharf 
the brig Washington lost its mainmast, 
rigging, etc. 

On O'Brien's wharf, Capt. Joseph 
O'Brien lost one store, and his dwelling 
house at the head of the wharf, with 
another store on Water street. 

On Jackson's wharf, Mr. Abraham 
Jackson lost two warehouses, three 
stores, and a house on Water street. 

On Jewett's wharf, Mr. Jonathan 
Gage lost one warehouse. The south 
side of Cornhill, from Charter to Essex 
street, comprising the Xewburyport 
bank and the Peabody building, with 
the dry goods stores of James Caldwell, 
S. Davis. David Peabody & Co., and 
Prescott Spaulding, were not burned ; 



these were the only dry goods stores on 
State street that were saved. George 
Peabody at that time was a clerk inthe 
store of James Kimball, on Market 
square, which was burned. 


On the evening preceding the fire, 
Frank Somerby, Ben. Tappan and Da- 
vid Emery had been walking in the mall. 
When the nine o'clock bell rung they 
turned homeward ; they had reached the 
head of State street when that tall spire 
of flame darted sk3'ward. Shouting 
"Fire," the trio ran down the street. 
"Head for my store," said Mr. Somer- 
03-, as Mr. Emery turned into Charter 
street to get his bags and buckets. Da- 
vid still boarded with his brother, and 
both belonged to the "AVashington Fire 
Association." Tossing his watch and 
pocketbook into the hands of Margaret 
Lakeman, who resided inthe family, he 
seized his fire apparatus and ran to Mr. 
Somerby's store, from whence he pro- 
ceeded to Wolfe Tavern ; after that had 
been cleared, he assisted in the removal 
of the bedding in the rooms occupied 
by Mr. Stetson, inthe Phenix building. 
From that time he worked through the 
night, going from house to house as 
they became endangered, assisting the 
ladies to pack their valuables a task 
in which he was peculiarty efficient. 
AVithin doors most of the time, too busy 
to look dr think, at dawn he found him- 
self on the farther confines of the fire ; 
with amazement he gazed around 
could it be daybreak ? he thought it not 
later than twelve o'clock ; could it be 
possible ? For the first time he realized 
the extent of the terrible conflagration ; 

for the first time thought of his own 
property, which characteristically had 
never entered his mind in his anxiety 
for others. Mr. Colman was equally 
oblivious, in aiding the members of his 
fire company and packing his household 
goods, which, as the fire surged up 
State street, were put in readiness for 

Being so near the river, the shambles, 
through the exertion of Capt. Israel 
Young, were saved ; but a stable on 
Market square, owned by Dr. Smith of 
Mt. Rural, which Mr. Emery occupied, 
was burned ; his loss however, was 
small, as his wagon was at the slaugh- 
ter house on the turnpike, and his horse 
at pasture there. 

A year previous, through commer- 
cial disaster and the dullness in trade 
engendered by the embargo, Gen. Pea- 
body had been obliged to suspend busi- 
ness ; his affairs were soon satisfacto- 
rily adjusted, and he commenced the 
erection of a new brick store on Market 
square ; this building was just complet- 
ed, and a fine stock of neW goods had 
been put in that last week in May, in the 
expectation of opening to the public on 
the first of June. 

On the afternoon of the 31st of May, 
Sophronia Peabody and her cousin Da- 
vid had taken tea at Deacon Osgood's, 
in West Newbury ; they were on the 
summit of Pipestave Hill, on their way 
home, when that spire of fire shot into 
the sky. Mr. Peabody put his horse to 
a run ; in breathless suspense they 
dashed to town, in dismay and terror 
watching the swift progress of the 
flames. As the couple drove into the 
yard of the State street mansion, David 
threw the reins to a boy who came to 
stable the horse, while he and Sophro- 
nia hastened to the store. Miss Pea- 



body secured some rich lace, and a few 
other light but valuable articles, which 
she took home ; these were the only 
goods in the whole of that large, new 
stock which escaped the flames : the rest 
unfortunately were taken to the Baptist 
meetinghouse, which later in the night 
was consumed with its contents. In 
addition, the General lost three other 
stores on Market square, and three on 
State street, the whole of "Peabody's 
Corner," and two on the opposite side 
of State street, which were owned in 
company with Mr. David Wood ; one 
of these was occupied by Jonathan 
Woodman, jr.. silversmith; the other 
was Newman's barber's shop. * 

By the change in the wind that took 
the Phenix and Blunt buildings, the up- 
per part of State street became endan- 
gered ; for a time fears were entertained 
respecting my uncle's elegant residence. 
Water was carried to the roof, the plate 
and much of the clothing was packed ; 
but another shift of the wind averted all 

The day after the fire Col. Bartlett 
was borne on a bed to the residence of 
his brother-in-law, Gen. Peabody, and 
Mr. Stetson took Col. Bartlett's house 
for a hotel. The brick addition was 
built, and this continued to be the loca- 
tion of the '"Eastern Stage House" for 
about two years. The Tuesday suc- 
ceeding the fire I went to town ; I found 
Col. Bartlett much more comfortable 
and cheerful than I had dared to hope ; 
his good judgment and business tact 
were never more conspicuous than in a 
short consultation held with Gen. Pea- 
body while I was in his room. The 
General, with reason, appeared nearly 
crushed. Seeing that her father hjul 
become somewhat inspirited by his rel- 
atives' firmness, Sophronia proposed 

that we should go out to view the ruins. 
Entering Market square from State 
street, we paused a moment on the site 
of that new store which had been the 
goal of so much promise, then proceed- 
ed down Water street, taking a circuit 
of the whole area. In man}* places 
heaps of rubbish were smouldering in 
the cellars. It was indescribably sad to 
see the large space covered with charred 
debris and half-fallen chimneys ; those 
belonging to dwelling houses were most- 
ly standing to above the ovens. The 
sight of these domestic appurtenances 
brought such a vivid picture of house- 
hold desolation that I turned hastily 
away and left the scene. 

As many strangers were in town, 
drawn thither b}* the double motive of 
viewing the ruins and doing spring 
shopping, the diy goods stores in the 
I-Vabody building presented quite a 
lively aspect. At David Peabody's 
store we met his fiancee, Miss Sally 
C aid well, the daughter of Mr. William 
Caldwell. On passing Dr. Andrews' 
residence Miss Margaret came to the 
door ; she was followed by her little sis- 
ter Hannah, carefully holding a basket 
and box, in which were packed her 
dolls, playthings and picture books. 
Mrs. Andrews had kept her younger 
children asleep during the whole of the 
night of the fire ; this gave Miss Ilan- 
n ah great offence; "her things might 
have been all burned up ;" thencefor- 
ward, through the summer, they were 
kept in readiness for a removal at a mo- 
ment's notice. There is but one step 
from the sublime to the ridiculous, 
in a 113* ludicrous incidents occurred at 
the fire. Little Eliza Bartlett, awak- 
ened by the, noise and glare, clamorous- 
ly demanded her best wrought muslin 
dress, thinking that it was some grand 



gala illumination ; and a lad} T carefully 
convej^ed what she supposed to be 
choice plate, a long distance, finding to 
her disma}^ upon arriving at her des- 
tination, that her burthen consisted of 
two flatirous. 

Tea was announced upon our return ; 
I had not intended to stop, but my 
aunts insisted upon this. Their equa- 
nimity and heroism excited both admira- 
tion and wonder ; their nobleness of 
character was fully displayed in this 
time of trial ; without neglect or confu- 
sion every duty was performed in the 
sick room and throughout the house- 
hold. A stranger would never have 
imagined that such a change in the do- 
mestic arrangements had occurred in 
such a brief space of time. 

From the purchase of his house Col. 
Bartlett had rented the lower half ; at 
the time of the fire it was occupied by 
Mrs. Prout and Miss Nabby, the maid- 
en sister of the late Mr. Prout. As 
Mr. Stetson needed the whole house, 
these ladies, with their young serving- 
maid, Ann Mason, had also become 
boarders in Gen. Peabody's family. 
On my account the meal had been 
served early ; the gentlemen were not 
present, but the circle of ladies did their 
best to sustain a cheerful conversation, 
which was aided by the prattle of the 
children. I could scarcely swallow ; 
and it was with a sigh of relief that I 
turned my horse's head homeward. 
Wishing to relieve my Aunt Bartlett of 
all unnecessary care I took her little 
adopted girl with me. General Pea- 
bod}-'s second daughter, Adeline, a 
most lovely child, had been a sufferer 
from hip disease for some months ; she 
came to Crane Neck soon after. 1 had 
one or both of the little girls with me 
most of the summer. 

On Monday morning, June 3d, at 9 
o'clock the inhabitants^of Newburyport 
assembled to take into consideration the 
state of the sufferers jby the fire, and to 
devise means for their relief. At this 
meeting the following persons were cho- 
sen a committee on behalf of the town 
to solicit that aid of a benevolent pub- 
lic which the distress of a great portion 
of other citizens so forcibly claimed, and 
to adopt the necessary measures for af- 
fording immediate relief to the desti- 
tute, and to distribute among the suf- 
ferers at their discretion all monej-s or 
other property which might be received : 

Jeremiah Nelson, Isaac Adams, 
Eleazer' Johnson, Jacob Stone, Nicho- 
las Johnson, jr., selectmen; Joseph 
Dana, William Woart, Isaac Stone, 
Nicholas Johnson, Aaron Pardee, Wil- 
liam Bartlet, Moses Brown, William 
Coombs, John Pettingell, Samuel Coffin, 
Joshua Carter, James Prince, Michael 
Hodge, jr., Benjamin Pierce, William 
llussell, Stephen Howard, Robert Fos- 
ter, Samuel Tenney, John Stuart, Sam- 
uel L. Knapp, Daniel A. White, Nich- 
olas Pike, Thomas M. Clark, Joseph 
Williams, William Cross. 

The selectmen of the town were au- 
thorized and appointed to receive all 
moneys and other donations for the use 
of the sufferers ; and Win. Bartlett, 
Woart, Moses Brown, Benj. Pierce, 
T. M. Clark, Nicholas Johnson, Joseph 
Williams, John Pettingell and Isaac 
Adams were appointed to solicit sub- 
scriptions, and receive donations from 
the inhabitants of Newburyport. The 
sufferers in need of immediate relief 
were requested to apply at the store of 
Capt. William Russell, Market square, 
where also conti'ibutions of provisions 
were gratefully received. 

In a town meeting held on Friday, 



June 7th, it was voted, "that in future 
no buildings should be erected within 
the limits of the town more than ten 
feet high, unless the same be built of 
brick or stone." From this vote sprang 
the large number of low wooden shops 
called "ten footers," which for a num- 
ber of j-ears disfigured the streets. 

The 13th of June was set apart as a 
day of fasting and prayer, in conse- 
quence of the heavy calamity with 'which 
the town had been visited. In the fore- 
noon a sermon was delivered in Eev. 
Mr. Dana's meeting-house by Rev. Mr. 
Miltimore of Belleville ; in /the after- 
noon the Rev. Dr. Buckminister of 
Portsmouth preached at the Rev. Dr. 
Spring's meeting-house ; in both instan- 
ces there were crowded audiences. 

By the invitation of Rev. John Giles 
and his society, Elder John Peak 
preached in the Harris street church the 
Sunday succeeding the fire. In the 
morning the Baptist clergyman took his 
text from Isaiah 5th, 24th, "Therefore 
as the fire devoureth the stubble, and 
the flame consurneth the chaff, so their 
root shall be as rottenness, and their 
blossom shall go up as dust : because 
they have cast away the law of the 
Lord of Hosts, and despised the word 
of the Holy One of Israel." The af- 
ternoon sermon had for its object 
"Comfort to the afflicted who put their 
trust in the Lord." 

The following Sabbath the Baptist 
societ}' occupied the court house, in 
which they worshipped until the erec- 
tion of the new church. This society 
was peculiarly bereaved by the fire. 
In addition to the loss of their meet- 
ing house, eleven of their principal mem- 
bers were amongst the greatest suffer- 
ers. Capt. Joseph O'Brien, who had 
been one of their most prominent ben- 

efactors, lost $30,000. At a society 
meeting June llth, it was voted to ap- 
point the Rev. John Peak an agent, to 
solicit aid towards the erection of a new 
house of worship. The clergyman 
made a tour as far south as Philadel- 
phia and Baltimore, visiting most of 
the Baptist societies on his route. Af- 
ter his return he went as far east as 
Hallowell. This'mission was eminent- 
ly successful, and steps were immedi- 
ately taken to procure the land for a 
new meeting-house ; a committee of 
three was appointed to circulate sub- 
scription papers at the north, south and 
central parts of the town. That for the 
centre received no subscribers ; at the 
south end one individual subscribed fif- 
teen dollars ; at the north end five hun- 
dred dollars were subscribed. Conse- 
quently it .was decided to place the new 
meeting-house on Congress street. A 
plan for a building fifty feet by fort}*- 
two, with gallery, was approved, and 
the work commenced in April, 1812. 
The site of the old meeting-house, with 
the basement, bricks etc., were sold for 
the benefit of the original proprietors. 
After the new house had been begun, 
Dr. Bolles' society, of Salem, present- 
ed a subscription amounting to$440.17. 
This church was completed the last of 
July, and with the land cost less than 
than 84000. "The house was dedicat- 
ed without parade, with fervent suppli- 
cations for the divine blessing on the 
church, congregation, the word which 
should be dispensed there, and on their 
kind benefactors." 

The Rev. Dr. Spring also made a 
tour for the purpose of soliciting funds, 
traveling as far south as Virginia. This 
call was met most generously ; Phila- 
delphia, with the aid given to Mr. Peak, 
contributed $3000, and a Moravian so- 



ciety in Pennsylvania added $60 to the 
funds forwarded from that state ; be- 
sides many donations from distant parts 
of the country, the neighboring cities 
and towns were most prompt and lib- 
eral in their contributions ; Boston gave 
$24,315.25 ; Charlestown sent $1,744.- 
L 55. Of this $150 was presented by the 
firemen to their brethren in Newbury- 
port ; Salem presented $1000 and con- 
tributions of clothing ; Portsmouth and 
all the smaller towns gave as largely in 
proportion to their means. Those of 
our citizens who were able showed 
great liberally towards their unfortu- 
nate fellow citizens ; provisions, furni- 
ture and clothing were given in large 
quantities from Newburyport, New- 
bury, and the other adjoining towns ; 
Mr. William Bartlett presented $3000, 
Mr. Moses Brown $1500, and other 
gentlemen contributed as their means 
permitted ; the Shaker families at Can- 
terbury and Enfield sent five waa'on 
loads of furniture, bedding, clothing 
and food, which were received with the 
warmest thanks. 

The 1st of June th circus of Messrs. 
Cayetano & Meniol was in Portsmouth ; 
these gentlemen wrote to Samuel Shaw 
and David Emery that if they would 
come over and ride in the military ex- 
ercise, they would advertise a benefit 
for the Newburyport sufferers. This 
proposal was accepted with alacrity, 
and the proceeds of the exhibition, 
which amounted to sixty dollars, were 
handed to the Newbmypo.rt Relief As- 
sociation. Such a noble charity from 
foreigners and strangers was duly ap- 
preciated by our townsmen, and it was 
with genuine grief that some two or 
three years after, they received the tid- 
ings of the loss of the whole troop on 

their passage from New Orleans to 

Of the money received, as just a dis- 
tribution as possible was made. No 
one whose remaining property amount- 
ed to the value of five thousand dollars 
received auy appropriation. From the 
first few days after the fire the burnt 
area in the vicinity of Market square 
and State street presented a most busy 
aspect ; the debris was quickly cleared, 
and the foundations of most of the 
present buildings were laid ; before 
winter many dry goods and grocery 
stores were opened, and by the second 
year the town bore a much handsomer 
appearance than before the fire ; but 
the war with England and other causes 
combined to curtail business, and it was 
years before the traces of the great fire 
were wholly obliterated. 

Col. Bartlett lingered till November. 
For many weeks he laid helpless as an 
infant, and the end came gently ; with- 
out any painful struggle, his transition 
to another world was in perfect keep- 
ing with his calm, genial character. 
Earthly cares and duties finished, he 
departed, in the hope of a new and 
blissful life in that world "where there 
is no more death." His widow bowed 
in submission, casting her burden upon 
that Savior who alone could give com- 
fort. His relatives, friends, and the 
whole community mourned the loss of 
one, who at the early age of thirty-eight 
had been called fjjpm their midst. 

Col. Bartlett was buried under arms, 
and the funeral, which was from Gen. 
Peabody's residence, was largely at- 
tended. Dr. Dana conducted the ser- 
vice, then the military formed in the 
order of escort ; behind the hearse a 
negro attendant led the Colonel's fam- 
ous charger a splendid white horse ; 



from his bridle floated bands of crape ; 
the housing was of black ; across the 
saddle depended the uniform boots, with 
spurs attached, and upon it were laid 
his sword and cap, with its long white 
plume ; next came a long procession of 
gentlemen on foot, and a long line of 
mourners in carriages concluded the 
cortege, which to the solemn beat of 
the inuffled drum slowly moved to the 
Old B my ing Hill, where dust was ren- 
dered to dust. A volley having been 
fired over the grave, the musicians 
struck up a lively air, and the remains 
were left in the full hope of a glorious 

The famous white horse became the 
property of Mr. Benjamin Hale, who 
succeeded Col. Bartlett in the stage 
agency. Though obliged to part with 
her favorite, Mrs. Bartlett, through the 
kindness of Mr. Hale, never felt his 
loss, as she had only to name the time 
when a ride was desired, and the horse 
was immediately put at her disposal. 

My preparations for marriage were 
nearly complete, but nothing definite 
had been decided upon, when to' my 
utter astonishment, one evening in 
March David Emery came with the an- 
nouncement that he had hired the Pills- 
bur}* place in Belleville, and had come 
to take me down with him in the morn- 
ing to inspect the premises, and assist 
in making farther arrangements. I was 
completely dumbfounded. ' The Pills- 
bury domain consisted of a farm of 
sixty acres, on which was a large, old- 
fashioned house, which for many years 
had been a noted tavern for drovers 
and country traders. With the most 
perfect sang froid Mr. Emery stated 
his intention of immediately putting up 
a large slaughtering house, and that he 
had already hired Mr. James Carey to 

assist in the butchering business. Mr. 
Carey, his wife and two children were 
to occupy a part of the house. "I was 
expected to become the mistress of a 
public house on a large farm, with an 
extensive butchering establishment at- 
tached !" "Yes, and I could doit." 
Efficient help had been secured a girl 
from Lock's Hotel, who knew every 
"rope in the ship." Lock had succeed- 
ed Coburn, who had been appointed 
deputy sheriff. 

Somewhat encouraged, I began to 
gather my scattered ideas and to take 
a more coherent view of things ; but it 
was after a restless night that I set 
forth with Mr. Emery in the morning. 
The place of our destination had for- 
merly been the homestead of Mr. Ed- 
ward Rawson. to whom at the first set- 
tlement of the township five hundred 
and eighty-one acres of land had been 
granted, which was termed Rawson's 
Xewbury plantation. Mr. Rawson was 
the first town clerk of Newbury. and 
one of the wealthiest arid most influen- 
tial citizens. Afterwards he became 
Secretary of the colony of Massachu- 
setts and moved to Dorchester. The 
unfortunate marriage of his youngest 
daughter, Miss Rebecca Rawson, to an 
Englishman named Thomas Ramsey, 
under the assumed name and character 
of Sir Thomas Hale jr., nephew of Lord 
Chief Justice Hale, Whittier has woven 
into his charming tale entitled "Mar- 
garet Smith's Journal," and this first 
home of 1113* married life was the scene 
of that romance. 

In 1(551 (O. S) Mr. William Pills- 
Imry purchased of Mr. Edward Raw- 
sou forty acres of land for the sum of 
one hundred pounds. The deed of this 
purchase is still held by the Pillsbury 
family. The present house was built 

Or A 


in 1700, b}' Mr. Daniel Pillsbury. Orig- 
inal^ it consisted of the main building ; 
the several additions, which so mate- 
rinlly enhance its picturesque appear- 
ance, have been made as the needs of 
the occupant required. At this time 
the estate had passed through three 
generations to the heirs of Mr. Joshua 
Pillsbury, who a few years previous hud 
purchased a farm in Boscawen, where 
lie had recently died. Pilesburgh or 
Pilesborough, now Pillslmry, Essex, 
England, Arms. Per fesse sable and 
azure, on an eagle displayed argent ; 
three griffins' heads, erased of the sec- 
ond. Crest, an Esquire's helmet- 
Motto, Labar ammia vinrent. 

A piercing March wind swept with 
great force across u the plains ;" I was 
completely chilled before we reached 
our destination. The old tavern looked 
dreary and uninviting. With a sinking 
heart I stepped from the sleigh and ac- 
companied Mr. Emery to the door. 
The premises were occupied by a family 
named Poor. Mr. Emery having intro- 
duced me to Mrs. Poor, went with Mr. 
Poor to the barn. My hostess led the 
way to the large kitchen next the street ; 
the breakfast dishes had not been 
cleared, and the room bore a most un- 
tidy aspect. A chair having been dust- 
ed, I was requested to take a seat at 
the fire. Gathering my handsome, 
light, drab cloth pelisse about me, I 
ventured to do so. While warming my 
benumbed feet the landlady never 
ceased making apologies ; she had not 
expected me so early, she had small 
children, etc. I stopped the talk as 
speedily as possible by rising to go over 
the house ; the spacious rooms were 
ding} 7 , dirty, and meagerly furnished ; 
everything looked sombre and cheer- 
less ; I felt as though the}* were peo- 

pled with all the defunct Rawsons and 
Pillsbiuys : in fancy, gliding before me, 
I saw Miss Rebecca Rawson, whom the 
scamp Thomas Rsmsey so shamefully 
married, then robbed and deserted in a 
foreign land, and who soon after met 
with a tragical death, being swallowed 
up by an earthquake in Port Royal. 
Mr. Emery's brisk step and quick, busi- 
ness tone dispelled these illusions. Al- 
terations and repairs were discussed ; 
whitewash, paint and paper would work 
wonders. Quite inspired, I rode down 
to my Uncle Peabody's. 

Considerable trade had sprung up be- 
tween Newburyport and Alexandria 
and Georgetown, and several of our 
citizens had become residents of the 
District. Gen. Peabody had decided 
to join them ; preparations were in 
progress for the families' removal to 
Georgetown early in the summer. 

Mr. Bartlett still boarded at her sis- 
ter's ; her future was undetermined. 
I had long coveted the two card tables 
and some other articles of furniture that 
had stood in her parlor. Much to my 
delight I found that they could be pur- 
! ; Aunt Peabody was glad to let 
me take some of her surplus things. I 
returned home that night well satisfied ; 
order was beginning to be evolved from 
the chaos of my brain, and courage was 
up. Bringing for the new career marked 
out for the coming j-ears. 

The wedding was on the 22nd of 
April. No one was present but the 
family. Dr. Parish performed the cer- 
emony. I wore a white India muslin, 
the skirt edged by an ornamental bor- 
der wrought in colored worsted ; bands 
of similar embroidery finished the neck 
and short sleeves, with a girdle to 
match. My walking dress was a short 
pelisse of light drab silk, trimmed with 



black lace ; the bonnet matched the 
pelisse, trimmed with bias folds of the 
silk bound with white satin, and white 
satin strings. The hair in full curls 
upon the temples, formed a sufficient 
face trimming. Mr. Emery had a blue 
coat with brass buttons ; drab pants, 
white vest, a drab overcoat, and a very 
stylish black beaver ; we both wore 
white kids. 

Mr. and Mrs. Carey with their two 
eldest children, Sophronia and Hannah, 
were already settled in their rooms at 
the upper end of the house. On my 
arrival I found myself not only the land- 
lady of a public house, but the mistress 
of a family numbering seven persons ; 
besides Betsey Downing, the maid ser- 
vant, there were three hired men, Dan- 
iel Smith, Aaron Palmer, John Webs- 
ter, and a boy of fourteen named Guy 
Carlton Mackie. This lad had been 
cast a waif upon the world ; his expe- 
rience had been both varied and roman- 
tic ; his last feat had been to escape 
from a British man-of-war, where he 
had been brutally treated, as his scarred 
back bore witness. Mr. Justin Smith 
picked him up in Boston and brought 
him to Newburyport to tend in his res- 
taurant ; he might as well have em- 
ployed a monkey. As the lad, in com- 
mon with most boys had taken a huge 
liking to Mr. Emery, Mr. Smith im- 
plored him to take him; "he could 
manage him if it was in the power of 
mortal to do it." Accordingly I was 
received by this hopeful, cap in hand, 
with the most graceful of bows. For 
two years he continued the most faith- 
ful and devoted of servants ; my word 
was law, and he was equally obedient 
to Mr. Emery. Ever alert, quick-wit- 
ted, possessing a knowledge of the 
world far beyond his years, he proved 

a valuable addition to the menage. 

The March previous Capt. Jeremiah 
Colman and First Lieutenant David 
pjmen* had both received promotion ; 
Captain Colman became Major of the 
regiment of cavalry, and Lieut. Emery 
took the command of the company. 
On the Monday following our mar- 
riage there was another choice of offi- 
cers, when Jeremiah Colman was chos- 
en Colonel and my husband Major.* 
Thus, in the period of one month, Da- 
vid Emery received both a captain's 
and major's commission in the troop, 
besides assuming the responsibility of 
marriage and the management of an ex- 
tensive business. 

Belleville presented at that time the 
same neat and pleasant appearance as 
now. At the junction of the main feriy 
and bridge roads, facing High street, 
stood the old-fashioned hay scales. The 
first house round "Newton Corner" was 
that of Mr. William Wade ; next came 
the fine residence of Mr. Robert Dodge ; 
below stood Varnurn Howe's house and 
hatter's shop, the Gordon house and 
blacksmith's shop, the residences of 
Mr. Amos Atkinson, Col. Eben Hale, 
Mr. Folsom, Mr. Russel, Mr. Oliver 
Hale and Messrs. Moses L. and Theo- 
dore Atkinson. Below came the Qua- 
ker meeting-house and the mansion of 
the late Dr. Edmund Saw3'er, then oc- 
cupied by his widow and family, and 
that of the Rev. James Mityimore, the 
Pillsbury place, the Atkins estate and 
the residence of Capt. Reuben Jones. 
The house on the corner of Toppan's 
Lane was owned by Mr. Jonathan Har- 
ris, whose wife was Anna Toppan, a 
daughter of the late Edward Toppan. 
Down the lane came Mr. Stephen Top- 
pan's house and the old Toppan home- 



stead, then the propert} r of Mr. Enoch 

The first house on the lower side of 
Pligh street, from the bridge road, was 
that of Miss Eunice Atkinson, after- 
wards .Mrs. Moses Currier ; the next 
belonged to Mr. William Merrill ; next 
came the residences of Mr. Moses At- 
kinson, Orlando Merrill, Jacob Littte. 
Stephen Little, the homestead of Josiah 
Little esq., Mr. Thomas H ale's house 
and hatter's shop ; William Wiggles- 
worth's house and that of Mr. Moses 
Merrill ; the next house belonged to 
"Marm Fowler," one of the ancient 
school dames ; below was a small one- 
stor}' house, and another of two stories, 
the latter belonging to Dr. Edmund 
Sawyer's estate. On this side of the 
street was Russell's chaise manufactory. 
The schoolhouse and meetinghouse 
stood .together, above Moody's Lane; 
below was Samuel Moody's house and 
that of Mr. Thomas Emery ; on the 
upper corner of Tyng street stood the 
house built by Mr. Thomas Coker. 

The morning after the arrival at our 
new home our next neighbor Parson 
Miltimore called, and in his genial man- 
ner bade us welcome. This was the 
commencement of a friendship that con- 
tinued to the end of the wortlrr clergy- 
man's life. Mrs. Miltimore, an invalid, 
visited but seldom, but the young peo- 
ple became most pleasant companions. 
The three sons, Andrew, James and 
John Murray, and the three daughters, 
Dorothy, Eliza and Maiy, had none of 
them yet left the paternal roof. 

The next Sunday we attended service 
at the Belleville meetinghouse. This 
was the .first building, the one burned 
b,y lightning a good-sized edifice, with 
galleries, and a tall and graceful spire. 
A broad and two-side aisle led to the 

pulpit, which was in the style of the pe- 
riod ; a sounding-board was suspended 
above the desk, upon which rested a 
green velvet cushion ; the arched win- 
dow in the rear was draped with a cur- 
tain of the same color ; the pulpit cush- 
ion, and the seats of the three j-ellow, 
oval-backed, wooden chairs which stood 
beneath it were covered to match. A 
mahogan}' communion table occupied 
the platform in front, and two hand- 
some glass candelabra were placed either 
side of the sacred desk ; there was no 
chandelier, but the scones for candles 
were hung around the walls. 

The society was large and gf the 
highest respectability. The Pillsbury 
pew, which we had hired with the place, 
was on the left side of the broad aisle 
from the entrance, and about half way 
to the pulpit ; one seat, which was cush- 
ioned, was reserved for Grandma'am 
Pillsbury ; the rest of the pew, like 
those throughout the house, were un- 
painted boards hung upon hinges. 
Some faces were strange, but many of 
the congregation were relatives or ac- 
quaintances. There were the Little 
families from Turkey Hill and Belle- 
ville. Mr. Nathaniel Emery, from the 
lower parish of Newbury. The Top- 
pans, Atkinsons, Mr. Thomas Hale's, 
and all the families on High street above 
the meetinghouse, and many below, 
Mr. John Balch's and Capt. John Rem- 
ick's, and most of the other families 
from Bellevilleport. The choir, as was 
then the custom, was composed of vol- 
unteers, all good singers, and accom- 
panied by a bass viol. 

Gen. Peabody had established a store 
for dry goods in Georgetown, D. C. ; in 
June his wife and family left to join 
him. They sailed in the brig Citizen, 
Capt. Dole, of Ring's Island. This was 



a regular packet plying between New- 
buryport and the District of Columbia, 
owned by Messrs. Robert, Allen and 
Frank Dodge. This firm was largely 
engaged in the flour trade, and for its 
greater facility Mr. Frank Dodge had 
recently become a resident of George- 
town. This separation from my aunt 
and cousins was painful to the whole 
family, but especially so to me ; I took' 
my farewell the day prior to their de- 
parture. The spacious house was emptj* 
and closed ; the furniture, trunks etc., 
were loading for the vessel. My aunt 
and cousin Sophronia maintained a 
calm, even smiling exterior, though I 
well knew that great heart sobs scarcely 
permitted utterance. John, the oldest 
son, a handsome, noble j'outh, coura- 
geously assumed the burthen of man- 
hood, and the younger children clus- 
tered about me, giving their little mes- 
sages and last kisses. It was inexpres- 
sibly sorrowful to leave my pet, my 
sweet, darling Adeline ; the beautiful 
girl so lovely in her suffering, clung to 
me in an embrace that spoke volumes ; 
and I could not but feel that this was a 
final adieu. Polly Smart, the faithful 
handmaiden of j-ears, who adhered to 
my aunt like Ruth to Naomi, also came 
to say good-bye. Sad, sad was the 
parting, and it was through an irrepres- 
sible mist of tears, that from the upper 
window of the old Pillsbury house I 
watched the Citizen glide down the 
river and over the bar ; watched until 
she became a white speck on the sk} r , 
then wholly disappeared in the distance. 

Aunt Bartlett took the house and 
shop formerly occupied by Mrs. Searle. 
and with the assistance of two young 
lady acquaintances she set up a fane}' 
goods and milliner's store. 

The intelligence of the declaration of 

the war with Great Britain was re- 
ceived in Newburyport on the fourth of 
July. There had been a celebration, 
oration, etc., Major Emery had been on 
duty, and Col. Moses Newell, of the 
upper parish, who dined with us. I 
was apprised of the news at the table. 
There was much conversation, but my 
husband said little, and I knew by his 
grave taciturnity that he was troubled. 
At night, after the house was still he 
came into my private parlor, and sink- 
ing into the large rocking-chair ex- 
claimed, "Wife, I fear I am ruined." 
Whether it was my father's democratic 
rearing, or a clearer insight, I cannot 
tell, but someway I did not share in 
this despondency, and soon succeeded 
in chasing the gloom from his brow. 


The declaration of war caused much 
anxiety for the safet3' of the Citizen. 
Two days' sail from Georgetown, and 
she was boarded by a British frigate. 
At her appearance Capt. Dole strove to 
outsail her, but the third shot over his 
bows compelled him to heave to and 
answer the demands of "where from" 
and "where to?" At the third ques- 
tion "with what laden ?" a clerk of Gen. 
Peabody's named William Brown, Tvho 
accompanied the family, caught the 
speaking trumpet from the captain's 
hand, and shouted, "A few Yankee no- 
tions, such as women, children and 
spinning wheels." A boat was imme- 
diately lowered, but as the boarding offi- 
cer found that Mr. Brown had given a 
correct invoice, and though the declara- 
tion of war had passed the senate, its 
ratification by the House had not been 



received, after a short delay the Citizen 
was permitted to proceed to her destina- 
tion, which was reached in safety, and 
my uncle's family were soon domesti- 
cated in their Southern home. 

In Federal New England the war was 
exceedingly unpopular, and the Gov- 
ernor of Massachusetts appointed a pub- 
lic Fast. In every seaport there was 
much distress. Labor was impeded ; 
the most industrious were enforced to 
idleness ; poverty took the place of 
plenty ; this was too often followed by 
despondency, drunkenness and misery. 
Many a noble man became a mere wreck 
of humanity, and man} T a delicately 
bred lady descended into an unthrifty, 
slatternly household drudge, while their 
offspring, half clad and half fed, mixed 
unrestrained amongst the very dregs of 
the population. "It is an ill wind that 
blows no one good." The war which 
ruined hundreds, brought, notwithstand- 
ing my husband's forebodings, great 
prosperity to the tavern ; we could not 
have engaged in a more lucrative busi- 
ness. British manufacturers having 
quantities of goods upon their hands, 
ran cargo after cargo into their eastern 
provinces, thence they were passed 
across the border and taken South by 
ox teams ; as our accommodations were 
excellent, the teamsters made "Em- 
eiy's tavern" their headquarters. The 
first teams arrived in September five 
carts loaded with a variety of goods, 
consigned to Boston^ merchants. From 
that time until the winter of 1815 more 
or less came every week, usually to 
stop over night ; at sunset I have often 
counted a dozen or fifteen drawn up by 
the sidewalk, opposite the long barn, 
their motley coverings of patchwork 
quilts, coverlets etc., presenting a g} r p- 
sy-like, semi-barbarous appearance. 

Gunpowder and other ammunition was 
also transported. One night we slept 
with a large wagon loaded with powder 
standing directly opposite the house, 
but as the fact was not known until after 
its departure in the morning, no fears 
alarmed the household or neighborhood, 
but Mr. Emery was careful that there 
should not be any repetition of the risk. 
Commerce being entirely stopped, 
and the coasting trade greatly impeded, 
all imported goods commanded an ex- 
orbitant price. Flour rose to fifteen 
and eighteen dollars per barrel, brown 
sugar was twenty-five cents a pound, 
molasses a dollar fifty cents per gallon. 
Dry goods, crockery, glass etc., were 
equally dear. I paid a dollar a yard 
for calico, a common-sized looking-glass 
cost sixteen dollars, common tea-sets 
were from nine shillings to two dollars. 
My china set was sixteen dollars ; blue- 
edged dining plate were a dollar per 
dozen, knives and forks were from two 
and and a half to three dollars per doz- 
en. With the exception of corn and 
wool, all kinds of country produce was 
cheap. Good butter brought from nine- 
pence to a shilling, and cheese from 
eight to nine cents per pound ; potatoes 
were twenty-five cents per bushel. All 
kinds of butcher's meat was low. Ow- 
ing to the high price of wool the pelts 
alone paid the cost of the live animal, 
and a good carcass of mutton could be 
bought for fifty cents. Cheap as this 
was, owing to the lack of work, many 
had not the money to buy even a small 
piece of meat. Mr. Emery was in the 
habit of giving away livers, heads, and 
the cheaper pieces. Young lads out of 
our most respectable families, on half- 
holidays and after school, were glad to 
give a helping hand at the slaughter 
house, receiving in pay a liver, sweet- 



bread, or bones for a soup. I have 
often watched them as they passed the 
house with their baskets, their faces ra- 
diant in the expectation of a good din- 
ner on the morrow. Some of our best 
mechanics were glad to dig potatoes on 
shares, thus securing a supply for win- 
ter. Mr. Emery having raised three or 
four hundred bushels, this was a mutual 
benefit. As the supply brought by the 
eastern coasters was diminished, wood 
rose to ten dollars per cord. Most of 
this was rafted down the river, but dur- 
ing the winter quantities came from 
New Hampshire ; in good sledding I 
have seen a dozen loads in a line pro- 
ceeding down High street. 

Federalist ideas were so prominent 
the fitting of privateers was strongly 
opposed ; but as this was the onh- hope 
for our marine, and as the administra- 
tion had some strong supporters, dur- 
ing the summer a number of vessels 
cleared from Newbu^-port, "bound on 
a cruise." One of the most active in 
this business was Capt. Benjamin 
Pierce, a wealth}' and influential citizen, 
largely interested in shipping. During 
the war he fitted out several armed ves- 
sels at his own expense and tendered 
them to the government. Capt. Pierce 
married Elizabeth Gerrish, who was 
connected with one of the most promi- 
nent and influential families of the town, 
and through a long life she was emi- 
nent for piety, benevolence and patriot- 
ism. Capt. and Mrs. Pierce had five 
daughters and three sons Sarah Coffin, 
who married Thomas H. Battell and 
afterwards Mr. James Oakes of Boston ; 
Elizabeth Maria, who married Mr. D. 
C. Mosele}*, afterwards, Hon. Joel W. 
White of Norwich, Conn., who was con- 
sul at Lions, France, for several years ; 
Rebecca married Mr. George Reed, a 

prominent merchant of Boston ; Man- 
became the wife of our respected citi- 
zen. J. J. Knapp. esq. After the fire 
of 1811 Capt. Pierce built the mansion 
on High street, which after his decease 
came into the possession of Mrs. 
Knapp, where she resided until her 
death. This lady inherited the noble 
traits of her parents, and to an ad- 
vanced age, she was ever read}- to lis- 
ten to any tale of suffering, while her 
hand and purse were always open to ex- 
tend relief. Caroline, the youngest 
daughter, is unmarried, and has long 
been a resident of New York city. The 
three sons, Benjamin, Charles and 
George, all died single. 

One of Capt. Pierce's vessels, the 
brig "Decatur," was commanded by 
Capt. William Nichols. In Jury the 
sound of heavy guns called the popula- 
tion to the wharves and other outlooks 
commanding the water. Coming up the 
river was the 'Decatur," gay with flags 
and streamers, followed b}* two English 
prizes, the brig "Elisabeth," taken on 
the 25th of July, and the '-Duke of Sa- 
voy." whose captain was shot dead at 
the wheel ; there was also a French 
schooner, captured from the French by 
the English and recaptured b} r the "De- 
catur." A great crowd awaited the 


Upon hiring the Pillsbury place Mr. 
Emery had put up a bowling alley. 
This attracted the townspeople, and as 
it was a pleasant walk to Belleville, I 
had many callers. Several of the el- 
derly gentlemen became habitually ac- 
customed to saunter up to the tavern on 



pleasant afternoons, when they often 
dropped into my private parlor for a 
chat. Mr. John Trac}-, paralyzed and 
feeble, was a frequent visitor ; he was 
usually accompanied by his friend, 
Mr. Samuel A. Otis. Mr. Tracy 
was fond of recalling the events of 
his earlier days ; his tales of the Rev- 
olutionary period were ver}' interesting. 
During the winter that Boston was oc- 
cupied by the British, Mr. Tracy went 
to the city to visit his ladylove ; he had 
scarcely arrived, when he learned that 
Gen. Gage had gained intelligence of a 
vessel of his loaded with gunpowder 
which was nearly due, and had placed 
one of the fleet on the watch for her. 
Bidding his betrothed a hasty adieu, he 
again mounted his horse and retraced 
his steps with all speed, finding to his 
great joy upon his entrance into New- 
bun port, his vessel safe at the wharf. 
As I have previously stated, Mr. 
Tracy and his brother Patrick were 
largely engaged in privateering. A 
succession of ill luck had proved almost 
ruinous. At the end of 1777 the broth- 
ers had lost forty-one ships. Mr. Tracy's 
only hope was centered in a letter of 
marque of eight guns, of which he had 
received no tidings. Walking one day 
with his brother, discussing the ways 
and means of obtaining subsistence for 
their families, a strange sail was es- 
pied making for the harbor. Mr. John 
Tracy jocosely exclaimed, "Perhaps it 
is a prize for me ." Mr. Patrick laughed 
a doubtful laugh, but Mr. John imme- 
diately took a boat and went down the 
river. To his great amazement, on 
reaching the ship he found that it was 
really a prize belonging to him, worth 
five and twenty thousand pounds ster- 

As the summer advanced dry goods 

qt every description became excessively 
scarce, consequent!}- exceedingly high 
in price. Though in most families 
there was more or less spinning and 
\veaving, and the click of knitting 
needles was a familiar sound, it was 
difficult to procure proper apparel ; 
plainness in dress was enforced by ne- 
cessity. This state of things engen- 
dered an illicit traffic which our people 
as good Federalists were slow to con- 
demn. I was awakened one night by 
a tap upon the window of my bedroom. 
Somewhat startled, I still forebore to 
awaken my husband, who had retired 
much fatigued. Slipping on a wrapper, 
I raised the curtain and asked ""Who is 
there?" "A friend ;" was the reply, 
"make no disturbance, but call the 
Major ; I must see him a few moments." 
I recognized the voice as that of Capt. 
Josiah Bartlett ; at that time an active 
shipmaster. Mr. Emer}' hastily dressed, 
when it was found that Capt. Bartlett 
had a stagecoach at the door, filled with 
merchandise, gloves, muslins, laces, 
vestings, ribbons, and other articles of 
a like description. These were hastily 
placed in my best bedroom, from whence 
they were gradually taken to the stores 
in town. Capt. Bartlett continued to 
bring goods for some time. We often 
had bales of valuable cloth hidden in 
the hay mow ; some were taken to 
Crane Neck and stored away in the 
large back chamber. 

The collector of the customs, Mr. 
Ralph Cross, and Master Whitmore, 
another custom house official, were in 
the habit of walking up to the tavern of 
a pleasant afternoon ; on one occasion 
I entertained the two old gentlemen in 
m}- parlor while Mr. Emery loaded a 
team at the barn with smuggled goods 
and drove away to West Newbury with- , 



out exciting the slightest suspicion in 
the government officers, though the 
whole household were on the broad 
grin, and I was obliged to control my 
risibles and give a variety of private 
signals to the others to prevent an un- 
seemly outburst of merriment. 

Late in the autumn Mr. Luther Wa- 
terman and Mr. Joshua Aubin received 
notice that a lot of linen awaited their 
order at "Kennebunk wharves." How 
were they to get it to Newburyport ! 
"The Major" was everybody's resource 
in a dilemma, and no excuse would be 
received; "he must get that linen.'' 
Mr. Emer}* hesitated ; it was a job he 
did not relish. Besides having inherit- 
ed his father's consumptive tempera- 
ment, his health was such he could ill 
bear over fatigue and exposure, but 
overcome by his friends' importunity, 
he at length reluctantly made his prep- 
arations for the journe}-. Wishing to 
remain unrecognized, he donned his 
worst suit of clothes, to which was add- 
ed a gray spencef belonging to my 
brother James, too short in the waist 
and sleeves ; over this was drawn an 
old overcoat, which as it was minus 
several buttons, was secured by a red 
surcingle ; an old siouched hat and a 
pair of striped woollen mittens complet- 
ed the disguise. 

In the summer of 1811, Mr. Emery 
had driven to market the first covered 
butcher's cart. This wagon had been 
made to order, and was A 1 in every 
respect. To this wagon, for the Kenne- 
bunk expedition, were harnessed "tan- 
dem," the Major's splendid parade 
horse, 4 'Peacock" and our family horse, 
"Kate," a beautiful sorrel rnare. I ex- 
pressed to my husband the fear that the 
contrast between his dress and his 
team might excite suspicion. My dis- 

quietude became increased at finding 
after Mr. Emery's departure that our 
house dog "Turk," a handsome and 
noted animal, was missing. According 
to my husband's direction, he had been 
shut into my room, but "snuffing the 
battle afar," in some unknown way he 
obtained egress, and started ahead, 
keeping shrewdly out of sight until his 
master had advanced too far on the 
road to turn back. 

Mr. Emery set out early on Monday 
morning. Wednesday night the wel- 
come rumble of wheels, and his glad 
tones, brought the whole family to 
the door. A large hogshead marked 
"Rum," filled the wagon, which was 
driven to the barn and unloaded. Turk, 
quite tired out, sought his nook beside 
my parlor fire, whither he was soon 
followed b}~ his master, who having re- 
freshed himself by a change of raiment 
and a good supper, entertained me with 
an account of his adventures. 

The journey to the "Wharves" was 
made in good time. The goods were 
stored in the warehouse of a retired sea 
captain. This gentleman had been 
largely engaged in the West India trade. 
and there were plent}" of rum casks at 
hand. After some consultation it was 
decided to pack the linen in one of 
these, which was done. A certificate 
must be at hand, but as the one belong- 
ing to this cask could not be found, 
another was adroitly altered. It was 
late ere all the arrangements were com- 
pleted, and the captain invited Mr. 
Emeiy to pass the night at his resi- 
dence, where he was entertained most 
hospitably. The following morning the 
cask was hoisted into the wagon ; there 
were plenty to assist, several very gen- 
tlemanly looking young men lending a 
hand with alacrit}'. It was nearly 



noon before everything had been com- 
pleted. By mistake the lower road was 
taken. Wishing to avoid the ferry Jit 
Portsmouth, Mr. Emery inquired of a 
young fellow he met how it could be 
done. The gift of a cigar won his 
good offices, and he volunteered to lead 
the way through a cross-road that 
turned on to the upper route. Night 
closed in ; the path led through dense 
woods ; an early snow that elsewhere 
had vanished, covered the ground ; 
here and there were small clearings, 
where a log hut loomed up amid the 
charred stumps, its one or two small 
windows, radiant from the pine knot 
within, and crowded with faces that the 
crunch of the wagon through the snow 
had drawn thither. 

The main route having been gained, 
his conductor left him. -Having driven 
till past midnight, he came to a large 
tavern ; after repeated knocks a boy's 
head . was thrust from a window, who 
shouted, "'taint the teamsters, Mr. 
Smith, it's a man." After further par- 
ley the door was opened, and the land- 
lord, bearing a lantern, came out, ex- 
cusing the delay ; he was troubled with 
teamsters from the back settlements, 
who only came in to warm themselves 
and get a drink, and the lad had been 
directed not to disturb the house by 
their admittance. The horses were sta- 
bled and a good supper provided, of 
which Mr. Emery partook, with Turk, 
who with true canine sagacity, fully 
shared his master's responsibility. The 
meal over, the landlord lighted his 
guest up-stairs. ' 'There are three oth- 
er gentlemen in the chamber, but you 
will find an empty bed," he said, as he 
opened the door. True ; there was an 
"empt}- bed," but the occupants of the 
two others had stripped it of every arti- 

cle of covering excepting the sheets. 
Making virtue of necessity, Mr. Emery 
quietly slipped in alongside of the soli- 
tary sleeper in the second couch. It 
was scarcely dawn when his light slum- 
ber was broken by the rising of the oc- 
cupants of the first bed. After they 
had gone down Mr. Emery rose and 
dressed without disturbing his bedfel- 
low. As preparations for breakfast 
were in progress, he sat down by the 
bar room fire to wait for a cup of coffee. 
As he did so, one of his room mates said 
to the other, "That fellow up-stairs has 
been to Portmouth and got a custom- 
house commission." Mr. Emery could 
not repress a start ; there he had been 
snoozing beside an of